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BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR, 

Life  and  Letters  of  James  0.  Andrew.    12mo §1  00 

Life  and  Times  of  Geo.  F.  Pierce.    8vo 2  00 

Life  of  Jno.  W.  Knight.    32mo 25 

Harry  Thornton. 50 

Berry's  Triumph 50 

Mr.  Hall  and  His  Family 50 

Childhood  and  Conversion 40 

OKDER  OF 

Barbee  &  Smith,  Agents,  Nashville,  Tenn. ; 
Macon  Publishing  Company,  Macon,  Ga.;  or 
The  Author,  Macon,  Ga. 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2010  witii  funding  from 

University  of  Nortii  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/boyingraystoryofsmit 


THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 


A   STORY   OF  THE   WAR 


GEO.  G.  SMITH, 

Chaplaiti  of  Phillips'' s  Legion,  Geo7-gia  Volunteers, 

Author  of  "  Harry  Thorn  ton,"  "Berry's  Triumph,"  "Mr.  Hall 
ami  His  Family,"  etc. 


MACON,  QA.: 

MACON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

1895. 


Kntered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1894, 

By  Geo.  G.  Smith, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


DEDICATION. 
Zo  tbc  Sons  of  tbe  Veterans, 

whether  they  wore  the  gray  or  wore  the  blue, 

this  book 

is  affectionately  dedicated  by 

The  Author. 
(5) 


PREFACE. 

This  book  has  been  written  for  the  young  people  who  are 
interested  in  the  story  of  the  stirring  scenes  through  which 
their  fathers  passed. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  it  is  not  a  true  record  of  personal 
life ;  it  is  no  more  history  than  is  "  Robinson  Crusoe "  or  the 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress."  The  facts  stated  as  historic  are  to  be 
relied  upon.  Many  of  these  came  under  my  own  eye,  when  I 
went  over  the  ground  which  Roger  speaks  of  in  his  campaign. 
The  pictures  of  "  Georgia  life  "  are,  I  think,  correctly  drawn, 
and  ought  not  to  fade  out  entirely. 

This  little  book  has  been  written  in  the  interest  of  peace, 
and  I  have  been  anxious  that  the  Southern  boys  and  girls  who 
will  be  largely  and  almost  exclusively  my  readers  should  see 
not  only  how  nobly  their  fathers  bore  themselves  in  the  war, 
and  how  grandly  their  mothers  and  sisters  toiled  at  home,  but 
that  they  should  see  how  really  noble  and  generous  were  many 
of  those  who  were  on  the  other  side.  If  any  one  should  object 
that  these  characters  had  no  counterparts  in  real  life,  I  can 
only  say  that  they  have  not  heard  the  whole  story  and  that, 
while  such  cases  were  too  rare,  there  were  such.  The  absence 
of  malice  between  the  soldiers  was  a  remarkable  feature  of  the 
contest;  and  if  there  has  been  feelings  of  bitterness  between 
the  North  and  the  South,  it  is  high  time  for  them  to  have  an 
end.  The  children  of  the  old  English  people  who  settled 
America,  whether  they  landed  at  Jamestown  or  Plymouth 
Rock,  have  too  much  in  common  to  be  at  enmity  now.  Com- 
mon dangers  are  too  near  them  for  them  to  vex  each  other. 

(7) 


8  THE   BOY  IN   GRAY. 

One  terrific  war  is  enough.  Let  us  have  peace  and  brother- 
hood for  evermore;  but  a  peace  purchased  by  falsehood  or  by 
suppression  of  the  truth  is  no  peace,  and  a  true  story  is  the 
only  one  that  should  be  told.  I  have  tried  to  tell  it,  and  I 
should  feel  sad  if  I  thought  I  had  said  anything  to  divide  the 
young  people,  North  and  South,  whom  I  would  so  gladly  see 
united.  Geo.  G.  Smith. 

Macon  (Vineville),  Ga. 


CONTENTS. 

Chapter  I,                                       Page 
The  Lawsons 1 1 

Chapter  II. 
A  Gathering  of  the  Clouds 19 

Chapter  III. 
"  Ivy  Bush  " 35 

Chapter  IV. 
A  Chapter  Which  I  Wish  Could  Be  Left  Out 50 

Chapter  V, 
Some  Pleasing  Events 62 

Chapter  VI. 
,  A  Rather  Dull  but  an  Important  Chapter 67 

Chapter  VII. 
The  War  Drum 74 

Chapter  VIII. 
Helen 86 

Chapter  IX. 
Gaining  Experience 93 

Chapter  X. 
A  Week  at  Home , 104 

Chapter  XI. 
Campaigning  on  the  Coast no 

Chapter  XII. 
infantry  Service  in  Northern  Virginia 117 

Chapter  XIII. 
Things  in  Liberty 131 

Chapter  XIV. 
Maryland !  My  Maryland 134 

Chapter  XV. 
«'  Yank"  and  "Johnny "  in  the  Same  Hospital 139 

Chapter  XVI. 
The  Army  Again — Winter  Quarters ,   146 

(9) 


lO  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

Chapter  XVII.  Page 

The  American  Waterloo 151 

Chapter  XVIII. 
I  lospital  Life 1 54 

Chapter  XIX. 
"  Pine  Lodge  "  Again 161 

Chapter  XX. 
Prison  Life „ 1 64 

Chapter  XXI. 
Wave  upon  Wave 170 

Chapter  XXII. 
Free  at  Last , iSo 

Chapter  XXIII. 
Midnight 185 

Chapter  XXIV. 
Beginning  Anew 188 

Chapter  XXV. 
Some  Unlooked-for  Events 200 

Chapter  XXVL 
How  Bob  Durham  Lost  His  Case 204 

Chapter  XXVII, 
At  the  Bottom  of  the  Ladder 210 

Chapter  XXVIII. 
Roger  Lawson,  Attorney  at  Law .   216 

Chapter  XXIX. 
A  Dark  Chapter  in  American  History 231 

Chapter  XXX. 
Get  Thee  Behind  Me,  Satan 238 

Chapter  XXXI. 
Some  Surprises - 243 

Chapter  XXXIL 
May  Flowers 250 

Chapter  XXXIII.      . 
Orange  Flowers 263 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  LAWSONS. 

mOGER  LAWSON,  the  first  of  the  name  who 
■'^\  settled  in  Georgia,  came  with  the  Puritan 
colony  from  Dorchester,  in  South  Carolina,  about 
1755;  and  settled  an  estate  of  one  thousand  acres 
on  Midway  River  in  what  was  then  St.  John's 
Parish.  He  brought  with  him  thirty  black  slaves, 
who  began  at  once  to  clear  the  land ;  and  as  the 
range  was  good,  the  large  stock  of  cattle  he  drove 
into  it  fared  well  from  the  first,  and  they  rapidly 
increased,  and  his  rice  fields  were  soon  put  in 
good  condition ;  and  when  he  died  the  second  Roger 
found  a  large  rice  plantation,  well  equipped,  and  a 
hundred  slaves  as  his  heritage,  and  now,  after  over 
a  hundred  years,  the  third  Roger  was  at  the  old 
home.  Long  ago  the  first  home,  a  log  cabin,  had 
been  torn  away;  and  now  a  comfortable  and  comely 
mansion,  built  by  the  second  Roger,  father  of  the 
present  owner,  stood  among  the  live  oaks  on  the 
bluff.  It  was  an  old  colonial  mansion,  with  broad 
verandas  and  roomy  halls  and  immense  wide- 
mouthed    chimneys.     The    mantels,   which    were 

(11) 


12  THE    BOY  IN    GRAY. 

brought  from  England,  were  carved  with  the 
quaint  carving  of  a  century  ago,  and  the  mansion 
doors  were  of  EngHsh  oak.  The  brick  in  the 
chimneys,  the  glass  in  the  windows,  the  doors  and 
mantels,  came  from  beyond  the  sea,  but  all  else 
had  come  from  the  plantation ;  and  though  the 
house  had  stood  for  a  hundred  years,  yet,  save  a 
repainting  and  overhauling  now  and  then,  and 
a  recovering  every  thirty  years,  it  was  as  the 
second  builder  left  it. 

A  group  of  neat  buildings,  high  from  the  ground 
and  comfortably  furnished,  were  the  abiding  places 
of  the  household  servants,  of  whom  there  seems 
to  us  of  this  day  a  rather  excessive  number;  for 
there  was  Robert,  the  master's  butler;  and  Mary, 
the  maid  of  the  mistress ;  and  Nancy,  the  house 
girl;  and  Jack,  dining  room  boy;  and  the  chief 
cook,  Judy;  and  her  assistant,  Chloe;  and  Dick, 
the  stable  boy;  and  old  Mammy  and  the  two  seam- 
tresses;  and  over  all  was  Uncle  Jack,  who  was 
Mammy's  husband,  and  had  been,  he  said,  "old 
Massa's  man  servant  in  de  late  war,"  when  he  was 
in  "  de  camp  wid  him."  The  late  war  was  1812, 
and  it  was  now  i860,  but  it  was  the  late  war  yet  to 
Uncle  Jack. 

Roger  Lawson  the  third,  better  known  as  Capt. 
Lawson,  was  a  wealthy  rice  planter,  as  his  father 


THE   LAWSONS.  1 3 

had  been  before  him.  He  was  now  near  fifty 
years  old,  and  had  graduated  from  the  State  Uni- 
versity thirty  years  before,  where  Alex  H.  Ste- 
phens was  his  classmate.  Born  in  affluence  and 
with  all  the  advantages  which  social  position  could 
give  him,  he  was  yet  brought  up  to  habits  of  in- 
dustry and  early  taught  self-reliance. 

Old  Roger  was  a  somewhat  stern  man  of  the 
old  Puritan  type,  and  he  and  his  wife  were  devout 
members  of  Dr.  McWhir's  church  at  Midway,  and 
they  had  trained  the  boy  most  carefully.  There 
were  no  Sunday  schools  then  ;  but  Sunday  was  re- 
garded as  a  holy  day  at  "  Lawson  Place,"  and  kept 
with  Puritan  exactness.  The  Shorter  Catechism 
had  been  carefully  studied  by  the  children  and 
faithfully  committed  to  memory,  and  Roger  and 
his  sisters  were  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
somewhat,  to  them,  inscnitable  teachings  of  the 
Westminster  Assembly. 

Roger  was  a  fine  3"oung  fellow  when  he  left  the 
high  school  for  Athens,  and  here  he  fell  in  with  a 
good  set.  Charles  Jones,  his  neighbor,  and  Tom 
Ginlat,  from  the  adjoining  county  ,  and  Alex 
Stephens,  the  wonder  of  the  college,  influenced 
him  for  good,  and  when  the  great  revival  came  on 
in  Athens  he  was  converted,  and  Dr.  Hoyt  received 
him  into  the  Presbyterian  Church. 


14  THE    BOY  IN    GRAY. 

Mary  Maxwell,  who  lived  on  the  adjoining  es- 
tate, was  an  only  daughter  and  inherited  the  broad 
acres  of  her  father,  Col.  Maxwell,  and  was  not 
only  an  heiress,  but  a  lovely  Christian  girl,  who 
had  come  from  Dr.  Marks's  school  at  Barham- 
ville,  S.  C,  finely  accomplished  the  summer  be- 
fore Roger  graduated.  It  was  inevitable  that 
Roger  Lawson  and  Mary  Maxwell  should  wed, 
and  wed  they  did,  much  to  the  joy  of  the  parents 
of  Roger  and  of  the  widowed  mother  of  Mary, 
That  was  in  1838,  just  after  Roger  left  college. 
The  good  people  of  "  Lawson  Place  "  did  not  live 
long  after  the  happy  event,  and  for  this  score  of 
years  Capt.  Roger  had  been  in  charge  of  the 
two  plantations.  There  were  two  large  quar- 
ters in  charge  of  a  manager.  In  each  there  were 
about  twenty  neat  little  whitewashed  cottages  with 
a  garden  of  an  acre  or  more  attached.  In  these 
cabins,  as  they  were  called,  the  negroes  lived,  and 
at  the  head  of  the  avenue  was  the  comfortable  six- 
room  house  of  the  manajjer.  The  rice  fields 
stretched  along  the  river  for  a  mile,  and  the  large 
canals  and  small  ditches  divided  them  into  beauti- 
ful plats  which  were  planted  in  rice.  There  were 
one  hundred  negroes  on  each  place,  but  of  tliese 
there  were  a  number  of  children  and  old  people 
who  did  but  little  work. 


THE  LAWSONS.  ^  1 5 

Capt.  Lawson  was  a  very  kind  master.  He  saw 
to  it  that  his  slaves  were  well  fed  and  well  clad, 
and  their  religion  and  their  morals  were  carefully 
looked  after.  He  had  a  neat  chapel  on  his  land 
built  entirely  by  himself.  The  Baptist  preacher 
and  the  Methodist  missionary  each  had  an  ap- 
pointment there,  and  were  paid  by  him,  and  his 
wife  and  himself  and  his  daughter  taught  the  little 
ones  in  Sunday  school. 

I  should  fail  to  do  my  duty  as  a  fair  chronicler 
if  I  did  not  tell  as  true  what  the  world  has  per- 
sisted in  believing  for  a  long  time  could  not  but  be 
false:  that  these  slaves  of  Capt.  Lawson,  and  of 
such  as  he,  were  better  fed,  better  clad,  better 
trained,  and  were  more  moral  and  more  religious 
and  more  cultured,  than  the  same  number  of  farm 
laborers  in  an}^  other  part  of  the  world,  but  so  it 
was.  They  were  not  permitted  to  do  as  they 
wished,  and  alas !  I  have  found  that  when  people, 
young  or  old,  black  or  white,  are  permitted  to  do 
as  they  wish,  many  of  them  wish  to  go  wrong. 
They  were  made  to  work,  and  alas  !  it  is  a  sad  fact 
that  many  people  will  not  work  unless  they  are 
made  to  do  so.  The  Captain's  people  said  they 
loved  him,  and  he  said  that  he  loved  them,  and  I 
am  sure  that  he  did. 

However  much   he   might  lose   in  his  planting 


l6  THE   BOY   IN    GRAY. 

ventures  or  however  much  he  might  be  embar- 
rassed, his  people  had  never  known  any  difference 
in  his  treatment  of  them.  Their  rations  and  their 
clothing  and  their  medical  attendance  were  always 
sure.  The  Captain  was  not  a  money-making  man. 
He  lived  in  comfort,  and  gave  generously,  and 
sometimes  disasters  unlooked  for  came  and 
pressed  him  sorely,  and  this  was  one  of  those 
times.  For  two  successive  years  the  floods  from 
the  river  had  covered  his  rice,  and  the  whole  crop 
had  been  lost.  He  had  made  large  outlay  for  a 
rice  mill  and  a  steam  engine,  and  the  crops  failing, 
he  had  been  compelled  to  go  largely  in  debt.  This 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  doing,  but  a  $20,000  debt 
is  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  carry,  and  he  felt  its  bur- 
den. 

The  two  older  children  of  Capt.  Lawson  died 
in  infancy,  and  Helen,  the  daughter,  and  young 
Roger,  the  son,  were  the  only  children  now  in  the 
famil}^  Helen  was  a  lovely,  brown-eyed  girl  of 
eighteen,  and  Roger  a  bright,  handsome,  merry 
boy  of  sixteen.  Helen  had  just  returned  from  the 
school  of  Dr.  Marks  at  Barhamville,  where  her 
mother,  twenty  years  before  her  birth,  had  been 
educated.  Roger  had  attended  the  old  Med  way 
academy,  and  was  now  ready  for  the  university. 
In  the  summer  time  Capt.  Lawson  went  with  his 


THE   LAWSONS.  1 7 

family  to  the  mountains  of  Georgia,  and  settled 
them  for  four  months  on  the  banks  of  the  Sequee, 
in  Habersham  County.  Here,  three  miles  from 
Clarksville,  he  had  a  cosy  home,  on  which  he  kept 
a  few  negroes  and  a  few  horses  and  some  cattle. 
It  was  a  retreat  from  the  miasma  of  the  swamp, 
and  a  pleasant  change  from  lowland  to  upland. 

Capt.  Lawson  had  his  title  from  being  captain 
of  the  Liberty  Troop.  This  was  a  small  company 
of  volunteer  cavalry,  which  was  composed  of  the 
gentlemen  of  the  county.  It  had  been  in  continu- 
ous existence  since  the  first  American  Revolution, 
and  was  the  pride  of  the  Liberty  people. 

The  Captain  was  an  old  time  gentleman.  He 
had  mingled  only  with  that  class  in  his  youth ;  and 
from  his  father,  who  was  his  constant  companion, 
he  had  imbibed  the  views  and  habits  of  an  old 
time  English  country  gentleman.  Save  that  he 
was  a  Presbyterian  of  the  nineteenth  century,  he 
was  really  a  reproduction  of  Sir  Roger  de  Cov- 
erly.  He  was  a  Whig  in  politics,  and  thoroughly 
conservative.  He  kept  up  too  the  manners  of  the 
century  before.  The  old  sideboard  of  his  father 
was  still  in  its  place,  and  the  cut  glass  decanter  of 
cognac  brandy  sat  upon  it  now  in  i860  as  it  had 
been  in  1790.  The  visitor  had  opened  for  him  a 
bottle  of   old  wine   and   had  prepared  for  him  a 


l8  THE    BOY  IN  GR.AY. 

brandy  toddy,  as  it  had  been  done  for  his  father's 
guest. 

In  his  family  Hfe  he  took  with  no  new  ways. 
The  card  table  was  wheeled  out  in  the  evening, 
and  father  and  mother  and  son  and  daughter  joined 
in  a  game  of  old-fashioned  whist.  They  went  to 
church  every  Sunday,  and  were  careful  in  their 
Sabbath  observance.  He  was  thoroughly  an  up- 
right man,  and  she  was  thoroughly  a  good  woman. 
He  had  great  respect  for  old  traditions,  and  little 
use  for  new  things.  He  never  drank  to  excess, 
and  his  good  wife  had  seen  him  take  his  thimble- 
ful of  brandy  and  his  glass  of  wine  for  all  these 
years.  I  do  not  mention  these  facts  to  commend 
them,  on  the  contrary  I  disapprove  of  them,  but  I 
mention  them  that  I  may  show  how  good  people 
lived  over  forty  years  ago. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  GATHERING  OF  THE  CLOUDS. 

|T  was  now  June.  The  time  for  the  family  to 
leave  Liberty  for  Habersham  was  generally  the 
the  15th,  and  Capt.  Lawson  was  making  his  ar- 
rangements to  go.  To  provide  for  over  two  hun- 
dred people  for  several  months  required  manage- 
ment and  money.  The  failure  of  his  rice  crop  for 
two  years  successively  had  rendered  it  necessary 
for  Capt.  Lawson  to  buy  largely  of  Western 
corn  and  bacon,  and  the  large  outlay  for  these 
things  was  giving  him  very  considerable  anxiety. 
The  firm  of  Robert  Harris  &  Co.,  of  Savannah, 
had  been  the  factors  of  his  father  and  of  his  grand- 
father, and  he  had  with  them  unbounded  credit, 
but  it  had  become  evident  that  he  must  negotiate 
a  considerable  loan  or  be  seriously  straitened,  and 
they  had  been  employed  to  do  it  for  him,  and  this 
day  in  June  he  had  received  their  reply.  He 
handed  it  to  his  wife. 

Savannah,  Ga.,  May  31,  i860. 
Capt.  Roger  Lawson. 

Dear  Captain:  We  hercAvith  send  you  account  of  sales  of 
ten  bales  of  Sea  Island  cotton  and  of  the  lot  of  rice  sent 
by  sloop  "  Margaret."     We  have  communicated  with  our  New 

(19) 


20  THE    BOY   IN   GRAY. 

York  correspondents,  Messrs.  Fall,  Daniel  &  Co.,  and  they 
say  that  they  have  arranged  for  the  $20,000  you  desire  to  bor- 
row, but  say  that  the  mortgage  of  the  plantation  and  negroes 
will  not  be  satisfactory.  The  old  Quaker  who  proposes  to  let 
you  have  the  money  for  five  years  at  six  per  cent,  is  not  willing 
to  take  security  of  this  kind ;  but  if  you  will  give  him  a  mort- 
gage on  the  two  plantations,  and  not  include  the  negroes,  this 
will  be  satisfactory.  We  are  sure  that  unless  there  should  be  a 
a  strange  succession  of  bad  years  you  will  be  able  to  pay  the 
amount  easily  in  the  five  years,  and  as  we  know  how  reluctant 
you  are  to  mortgage  your  family  slaves,  we  have  written  to  our 
New  York  friends  that  they  could  assure  their  correspondent 
that  you  wovild  accept  his  terms. 

Very  truly  yours,  Robert  Harris  &  Co. 

Mrs.  Lawson  read  the  letter.  The  shade  of  anx- 
iety and  of  concern  which  crossed  her  face  soon 
passed  away,  and  she  calmly  said:  "Well,  dear, 
you  can  do  no  better  than  this;  it  is  one  of  those 
things  which  must  be  done." 

"  Yes,  my  love,  it  must  be  done;  but  I  do  not 
like  to  do  it.  The  certainty  of  paying  the  note  is 
as  good  as  it  can  be,  for  I  can  sell  a  part  of  the 
lower  place,  with  the  hands  on  it,  to  Sam  Varnadoe 
for  $20,000  to-morrow,  and  not  have  to  borrow 
any  money,  but  I  cannot  part  with  my  old  slaves. 
I  am  afraid  that  they  would  not  be  content;  for 
while  Sam  is  as  good  a  master  as  I  am,  he  was  not 
brought  up  with  the  negroes,  as  I  was,  and  I  can- 
not bear  the  thought  of  selling  them  to  anybody. 


A  GATHERING  OF  THE  CLOUDS.  21 

But  have  you  thought  of  one  thing?  that  lower 
place  does  not  belong  to  me." 

"  It  doesn't?     Well,  to  whom  does  it  belong?'* 

"  I  made  a  marriage  settlement,  and  secured  it 
to  you." 

"  Well,  can't  I  mortgage  it  then?  " 

"  No,  for  it  doesn't  belong  to  you." 

*'  Well,  who  does  own  it?  " 

"  Both  of  us." 

"Well  then,  we  both  will  mortgage  it.  I  am 
not  going  to  have  you  so  bothered  any  longer. 
Every  time  you  have  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Harris 
you've  seemed  to  be  as  blue  as  indigo." 

"  Well,  I  could  not  help  it.  These  various  little 
debts  which  I  could  not  pay,  and  the  $10,000  I 
had  borrowed  from  the  bank  through  the  Harrises, 
have  harassed  me  more  than  I  can  tell;  but  this 
loan  will  relieve  me,  and  by  careful  living  we  can 
doubtless  pay  it  all  before  the  day  it  is  due.  We 
will,  however,  have  to  go  to  Hinesville  to  make  the 
papers." 

When  the  trip  was  made  they  called  at  the  office 
of  Judge  Law,  who  drew  the  mortgage.  After 
it  was  signed  Captain  Lawson  said:  "Judge,  I 
want  you  now  to  make  a  deed  of  gift  for  me.  I  do 
not  know  what  may  happen,  and  I  do  not  know 
that  she  will  ever  need  it,  but  I  want  to  make  a 


22  THE    EOY  IN    GRAY. 

settlement  on  my  wife.  The  plantation  just  mort- 
gaged was  hers ;  and  if  I  were  to  die,  and  that  mort- 
gage were  not  paid,  she  might  be  homeless.  I  want 
you  to  make  a  deed  of  gift  of  my  place  in  Haber- 
sham, five  hundred  acres  of  land,  with  all  my  family 
plate,  furniture,  books,  stock,  cattle,  horses,  and 
hogs,  to  Mary  Maxwell  Lawson." 

"No,  Judge,  don't  do  it,"  said  his  wife.  "I 
have  nothing  separate  from  Roger.  I  do  not  want 
that  summer  home." 

"  Don't  listen  to  her,  Judge.  Make  that  deed, 
I  say,  and  make  it  now,  and  I  will  put  it  on  record 
when  I  go  to  Clarksville.  I  will  not  feel  easy  till 
it  is  done." 

"  Well,  Captain,  it  is  rather  a  strange  freak  that 
a  man  worth  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  should 
be  so  anxious  about  settling  a  home  not  worth 
three  thousand  dollars  on  his  wife,  but  I  will  do  as 
you  wish." 

And  so  the  deed  was  drawn.  The  mortgage 
v/as  sent  on,  the  money  received  and  placed  with 
the  Harrises,  and  the  debts  paid;  and  with  lighter 
hearts  the  famil}^  began  to  make  preparation  for 
tlie  journey  to  Habersham. 

With  the  mail  which  brou^fht  the  letters  from 
Messrs.  Harris  &  Co.  came  the  Savannah  Repub- 
licaii,  and  it  gave  a  vivid  account  of  the  Charleston 


A  GATHERING  OF  THE  CLOUDS.        23 

Convention  of  the  Democratic  party,  and  of  the 
split  in  that  great  organization.  "  This,"  said  the 
Captain  sadly,  as  he  laid  down  the  paper,  "  is  the 
beginning  of  the  end.  The  Democratic  party  is 
hopelessly  divided.  The  Republican  will  be  vic- 
torious and  abolitionism  will  be  on  top  and  the 
Union  will  fall." 

"Why,  my  dear,"  said  his  wife,  "what  is  the 
reason  you  talk  so?  You  were  never  a  Democrat, 
and  the  mere  choice  of  a  Republican,  bad  as  that 
would  be,  would  surely  not  result  as  you  think." 

"Well,  maybe  not;  we  shall  see  what  we  see. 
Well,  let  us  leave  politics  alone  and  get  ready  for 
our  trip.  What  do  you  say  to  our  going  through 
the  country  in  our  carriage?  " 

"Nothing  would  please  me  better.  How  long 
will  it  take  us  ?  " 

"  We  can  make  the  journey  easily  in  a  week  or 
ten  days.  And  it  will  give  our  children  a  better 
idea  of  Georgia.  We  may  have  some  rather 
rough  fare  a  part  of  the  way,  but  the  pleasure  of 
going  through  the  country  will  more  than  compen- 
sate for  that." 

The  children  were  delighted  at  the  prospect,  and 
the  arrangements  were  made  for  the  start.  The 
plain,  strong,  comfortable  carriage  used  to  convey 
the  family  to  church,  which  was  drawn  by  a  pair 


24  THE    BOY   IN   GRAY. 

of  Kentucky  horses,  was  brought  into  use  for 
Mrs.  Lawson,  Helen,  and  Mammy.  The  wagon 
with  its  two  mules  carried  the  baggage  and  the 
other  servants,  and  Capt.  Lawson  and  Roger  had 
each  his  saddle  horse.  The  travelers  had  a  jour- 
ney of  two  hundred  miles  before  them,  but  they 
were  well  equipped  for  pleasant  traveling,  and  could 
take  their  own  time.  They  left  "Lawson  Place" 
in  the  early  morning,  and  were  soon  in  the  pine 
woods  moving  slowly  on  their  way. 

There  are  few  parts  of  Georgia  where  there  is 
less  variety  in  scenery  than  in  the  pine  woods  of 
the  lower  part  of  the  State.  There  is  a  gently  un- 
dulating plain  covered  with  forests  of  pines  and 
with  a  carpet  of  grass  now  and  then  crossed  by 
creeks,  along  whose  borders  grow  the  oaks,  moss 
clad,  and  whose  translucent  waters  have  a  strange 
inky  tint,  and  small  brooks  which  gently  move 
over  the  white  sand,  and  along  whose  banks  are 
magnolias  and  bays.  The  sward  of  the  forest  is 
bedecked  with  flowers  of  great  beauty.  There 
were  few  evidences  of  animal  life,  save  the  birds 
and  a  few  small  cattle  which  were  jjrazing  in  the 
ranges.  There  were  but  few  homes,  and  they 
were  very  small  and  plain.  Rapid  traveling  was 
impossible  on  account  of  the  heavy  sand,  and 
night  time  found  them  still   in  Liberty;  but   they 


A  GATHERING   OP"   THE   CLOUDS.  25 

found  good  quarters  in  the  home  of  a  friend  of 
the  Captain,  who  was  a  member  of  the  same  troop. 
He  was  a  plain  pine  woods  farmer,  but  he  and  his 
good  wife  soon  made  the  travelers  at  home.  The 
supper  was  generous  and  well  served,  and  the 
men  ht  their  pipes  and  sat  on  the  front  piazza  and 
talked  of  politics  and  of  county  matters;  and  the 
farmer's  wife  and  the  planter's  wife  chatted  of 
those  things  which  interest  women.  Few  homes 
were  more  comfortable  than  those  of  independent 
farmers  like  John  Jones,  and  few  people  were 
more  content  or  more  useful  than  such  people. 
These  families  had  few  comforts  which  the  farm 
did  not  furnish,  but  they  did  not  miss  them.  They 
cured  their  own  bacon,  made  their  own  sugar  and 
sirup,  had  their  own  cows,  and  made  their  own 
butter.  They  had  fowls  in  large  numbers,  and 
caught  fish  at  will  from  the  neighboring  ponds, 
and  the  fields  and  w^oods  furnished  them  with 
small  game.  The  wdfe  had  never  been  far  from 
home,  nor  did  she  care  to  go.  She  knew^  how  to 
weave,  to  spin,  to  raise  fowls,  to  direct  the  cook 
in  preparing  a  savory  meal,  or  if  need  be  to  pre- 
pare one  herself.  She  made  her  husband's  cloth- 
ing and. that  of  her  children.  And  while  five  thou- 
sand dollars  might  have  bought  all  John  Jones  had, 
he  had  enough  to  make  him  thoroughly  independ- 


26  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

ent;  [ind  while  he  knew  that  the  Captain  he  en- 
tertained could  have  bought  all  he  owned  with 
half  a  year's  income,  that  hfe  was  college  bred 
while  he  could  barely  read,  yet  he  felt  no  em- 
barrassment and  had  no  sense  of  inferiority  to 
his  guest  in  entertaining  him,  and  he  would  have 
felt  as  little  being  entertained  by  him ;  and  so 
it  was  with  Nancy  Jones,  his  wife.  She  had  met 
Mrs.  Lawson  at  Taylor's  Creek  camp  meeting, 
and  entertained  her  there,  and  now  she  gladly 
welcomed  her  into  her  roomy  and  comfortable  log 
house  and  entertained  with  as  much  simple  heart- 
iness as  if  she  did  not  know  any  difference  in 
social  conditions;  and  her  strong-armed  boys  just 
from  the  field  and  her  rosy-cheeked  girls  greeted 
Helen  and  Roger  with  hearty  cheer,  and  while  the 
Captain  and  the  Sergeant  were  on  the  porch  and 
the  matrons  were  in  the  family  room  the  ^^oung 
folks  were  having  as  merry  a.  game  of  thimble  and 
blind  man's  buff  as  if  they  had  known  each  other 
all  the  years  gone  b}-. 

"  Well,  Captain,"  said  Serg.  Jones,  emptying 
his  pipe,  "it's  about  bedtime,  and  if  you  will  come 
into  wife's  room  we'll  have  a  word  of  prayer." 

They  came  in,  and  the  Bible  was  taken  down 
from  the  shelf.  "  Captain,"  he  said  politely, 
"  will  you  take  the  book?  " 


A  GATHERING  OF  THE  CLOUDS.         27 

"  No;  excuse  me,  Sergeant.  I  am  a  pretty 
good  Presbyterian,  but  I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  a 
poor  Christian,  and  can't  pray  in  pubhc;  but  we 
will  be  glad  to  join  with  you  in  worship." 

The  Sergeant  took  the  book.  He  read  his  chap- 
ter, not  always  pronouncing  the  words  correctly, 
but  he  did  his  best,  and  then  gave  out  the  hymn, 
"A  Charge  to  Keep  I  Have,"  and  the  family  sung 
with  a  hearty  devotion,  if  not  with  classic  elegance, 
and  retired  to  rest. 

I  have  tried  to  give  this  account  of  the  in- 
tercourse of  the  wealthy  and  cultivated  of  the 
Georgia  people  with  their  plainer  neighbors,  that 
I  may  show  how  hearty  was  the  sympathy  between 
them  in  these  olden  times.  John  Jones's  brother 
William  had  been  an  overseer  for  the  Captain 
for  years,  and  while  Mrs.  Jones  and  Mrs.  Lawson 
met  as  equals  and  there  was  no  envy  between 
them,  3'-et  they  were  not  sill}^  enough  not  to  see 
that  their  social  position  v/as  very  different,  and 
the  paths  of  the  two  rarely  crossed.  The  next 
day  early  the  travelers  were  on  their  way  through 
Tattnall,  to  find  very  different  quarters  for  the  next 
night's  resting. 

It  was  a  wear}^  day.  Through  beds  of  sand  and 
long  slushes  they  moved,  and  at  nightfall  found 
themselves  in  the  sand  hills  of  Tattnall.      Squire 


28  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

McGinnis  had  the  only  house  where  a  traveler 
could  find  shelter  in  that  section,  and  when  they 
reached  the  Squire's  they  found  a  log  house  with 
one  room  for  the  dwelling,  and  a  kitchen  of  the 
same  size  near  by.  This  was  the  only  chance  for 
entertainment.  The  Squire  was  kind  enough,  and 
said  that  they  might  stay,  and  his  five  growm  daugh- 
ters and  his  good  w-ife  were  as  kind  as  they  knew 
how  to  be;  but  to  the  mother  and  Helen  the 
landscape  bore  a  somewhat  gloomy  outlook.  Sup- 
per was  coming  on,  and  the  keen  eye  of  Mrs. 
Lawson  saw  that  the  prospect  for  a  scant  meal  was 
very  promising,  and  witii  a  woman's  tact  she  said 
to  the  mistress  of  the  cabin:  "Let  my  servant 
help  3^ou  to  get  supper;  and  if  you  have  some  fresh 
eggs,  we  have  some  light  bread  and  coffee  and 
cold  ham,  and  we  can  make  out  nicely." 

The  supper  provided  by  the  Squire's  wnfe  was 
fat  bacon,  collard  greens,  and  corn  bread  and  corn 
coffee;  and  the  added  store  from  the  large  lunch 
basket  excited  some  gratitude,  as  well  as  wonder. 

"  Well,  ma'am,  I  am  obleeged  to  3'e.  We  poor 
folks  can't  do  as  well  as  we'd  like  to,  and  then  I 
don't  know  as  whether  w^e  allers  does  as  well  as 
we  mout ;  but  sich  as  we  have  you  is  mighty  wel- 
come to." 

"  Thank  vou,  ma'am,"  said  the  guest.     *'  We 


A   GATHERING   OF  THE   CLOUDS.  29 

have  done  very  well;  but  as  I  am  quite  tired,  I 
w^ould  like  to  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  convenient." 

"  Yes,  sartainly.  Youns  go  in  thar,  and  my  Ole 
man  and  me  and  the  gals  will  come  in  here.  The 
boys  (you  hain't  seen  'em  yit)  they  is  been  out 
arter  a  bunch  of  cattle,  and  when  they  come  in 
they  will  sleep  outen  the  shed." 

"Well,  Captain,"  said  the  Squire,  "while  the 
women  is  gittin'  ready  to  go  to  bed;  we'll  sit  out 
here,  and  while  you  smoke  I'll  chaw.  Whar  is 
you  from?  " 

"  From  Liberty." 

"  O  yes,  I  have  been  down  in  Libuty.  I  was  a 
delegit  to  the  Beard's  Creek  Association  last  year. 
You  warn't  thar,  wasj^^e?  " 

"  No,  Squire;  I  did  not  go." 

"Well,  I  did  not  think  ye  was.  An  old  side 
Baptist  I  is,  and  my  daddy  was  afore  me.  What 
IS  you  t 

'  *  A  Pre  sby  terian . " 

"A  Prisbyteran?  Well,  I  have  hearn  of  them; 
but  I  hain't  never  seen  none  before,  and  I  'spose 
you  is  a  Whig  ?  ' ' 

"  Well,  yes." 

"  Well,  I'm  a  Dimocrat,  a  regular  Andrew  Jack- 
son Dimocrat.  I  tell  you,  Captain,  when  a  man 
is  a  jestice  of  the  peace,  a  Baptist  deacon,  and  a 


30  ■     THE   EOY   IN   GRAY. 

rale  old  ironside  Dimocrat,  I  think  that  will  do. 
But  I  'spect  you  is  purty  tired,  and  so  I'll  go  in 
the  kitchen,  and  let  you  and  Bud  thar  go  in  to 
bed."      And  the  Squire  left  his  guest. 

The  Squire  settled  his  home  when  the  pine  for- 
ests on  the  sand  hills  of  lower  Georgia  were  counted 
as  valueless  except  for  their  pasturage ;  but  he  had 
a  hundred  head  of  cattle  now,  and  enriched  a  few 
acres  of  land  every  year,  on  which  he  raised  some 
corn  and  sugar  cane  and  potatoes.  He  knew 
nothing  of  comfort,  and  cared  nothing  for  it. 
Twenty  dollars  a  year  paid  all  his  store  bills ;  and 
all  else  they  needed  was  made  at  home.  The 
homespun  frocks  of  the  girls,  they  wove  them- 
selves, and  the  one  suit  of  jeans  which  the  boys 
wore  in  winter,  and  the  heavy  cotton  they  wore  in 
summer,  were  made  at  home  by  the  old  lady. 
They  drove  some  cattle  to  the  Savannah  market 
every  year,  and  carried  some  wool;  and  brought 
back  a  few  bundles  of  "spun  truck"  (as  they 
called  yarn),  some  indigo  and  madder  to  dye  with, 
a  few  tools,  some  powder  and  shot,  a  calico  dress 
for  the  old  woman  and  each  of  the  girls,  a  little 
coffee,  and  alas  !  a  keg  of  whisky;  and  the  remain- 
der of  the  proceeds  from  his  produce  he  turned 
into  gold,  which  he  carried  back  to  Tattnall  and 
loaned  out.     He  had  no  expense  for  newspapers 


A   GATHERING   OF   THE   CLOUDS.  3I 

or  magazines  or  schools  or  churches,  and  so  Squire 
McGinnis  was,  despite  his  poor  land,  a  substantial 
man,  who  had  money  at  interest,  and  whose  word 
in  matters  of  business  was  as  good  as  his  bond. 

The  fare  he  furnished  the  travelers  was  not  the 
best;  but  the  price  of  the  entertainment  was  in  pro- 
portion to  its  excellence,  for  when  the  Captain 
called  for  his  bill  in  the  morrjing-  the  whole  sum 
asked  was  one  dollar  for  everything. 

"  Say,  Captain,"  said  the  Squire  in  a  low  voice, 
"  won't  you  come  out  here  a  minute?  "  When  he 
did  he  said:  "  I've  got  a  jug  of  good  corn  juice, 
and  I  thought  maybe  you'd  like  a  dram.  I  have 
to  be  kind  of  secret  about  it  sence  my  Jim  is  got 
so  fond  of  the  stuff  that  I  have  to  hide  my  jug 
from  him.  I  tell  you,  Captain,  whisky  is  mighty 
good  if  you  can  take  it  like  I  do,  but  young  folks 
is  not  to  be  tnisted  these  days." 

"Thank  you.  Squire;  please  excuse  me."  A 
shadow  passed  over  the  Captain's  face,  and  he 
thought:  "  Suppose  Roger  should  do  like  Jim. 
What?" 

The  supper  and  breakfast  had  been  more  easily 
arranged  for  than  a  comfortable  sleeping  place. 
Geese  feathers  may  be  good  material  to  make 
beds  for  the  winter  months ;  but  in  June,  and  in  the 
narrow  confines  of  a  log  cabin,  they  are  not  best 


32  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

suited  to  promote  sound  slumber,  and  when  the 
Captain  and  Roger  saw  the  prospect  of  sleeping 
on  small  feather  beds  in  a  close  room  they  retired 
and  left  the  house  to  the  mother  and  Helen  and 
the  maid,  and  with  their  saddle  blankets  and  some 
small  pillows  made  themselves  comfortable  on  the 
front  piazza,  if  such  the  shelter  before  the  door 
might  be  called.  The  good  ladies  did  not  attempt 
to  sleep  on  the  beds  of  down,  but  made  what  we 
people  of  the  South  call  "pallets"  on  the  floor; 
but  the  Squire's  family  never  knew  that  their  gen- 
erous self-sacrifice  in  giving  up  the  feather  beds 
to  company  had  been  ignored. 

In  a  good  humor  the  journey  began  the  next 
day.  There  were  two  more  long  drives  before 
the  more  thickly  settled  parts  of  middle  Georgia 
were  reached,  but  there  were  good  stopping  places 
and  kindly  entertainment  along  the  route.  In 
those  days  every  planter's  home  was  open  to  trav- 
elers. There  were  no  inns  save  in  the  towns,  and 
the  man  who  owned  a  hundred  slaves  and  kept  his 
carriage  opened  his  door  readily  to  the  traveler. 
If  he  could  pay  with  true  politeness,  he  charged 
him  for  his  entertainment.  From  the  pine  woods 
and  the  wire  grass  the  travelers  came  into  the 
older  counties,  with  their  large  plantations  and 
handsome   homes.     The   first  settlers  of  Georgia 


A  GATHERING  OF   THE   CLOUDS.  33 

were  poor  people,  and  the  beautiful  domain  was 
divided  into  small  farms.  These  were  distributed 
by  lot,  and  many  of  them  were  occupied  by  those 
who  drew  them ;  but  the  early  settlers  were  a  rest- 
less race,  and  the  farms  were  sold  and  bought  by 
those  content  to  stay  until  the  plantation  took  the 
place  of  the  farm,  and  where  many  men  had 
owned  farms  of  two  hundred  acres  each  one  man 
became  the  owner  of  a  plantation  of  one  thousand 
and  sometimes  of  five  thousand  acres.  The  vera- 
cious chronicler  of  the  Lawsons  has  sometimes  in 
his  early  days  gone  for  miles  along  a  highway 
every  foot  of  which  was  owned  by  one  planter. 
These  large  tracts  were  divided  into  different  set- 
tlements, upon  each  of  which  a  body  of  slaves  were 
placed  under  the  charge  of  an  overseer,  who  was 
always  a  white  man.  The  planter's  home  was 
generally  handsome  and  comfortable.  It  was 
often  a  large,  square  wooden  building  painted 
white,  with  broad  verandas  front  and  rear.  The 
halls  were  wide  and  the  rooms  large.  A  great 
open  fireplace  blazed  with  hickory  logs  in  the 
winter;  and  in  summer  windows  and  doors  were, 
without  fear  of  thieves,  thrown  open  wide.  The 
old  plantation  houses  in  Georgia  are,  alas!  disap- 
pearing, and  where  there  was  once  almost  every 
mile  a  delightful  home  there  is  now  merely  a  range 


34  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

of  somewhat  squalid  houses  peopled  by  the  negro 
tenants  of  the  capitalist  who  has  become  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  score  of  holdings.  Our  travelers  found 
sufficient  comfort  on  the  way;  but  there  was  little 
to  interest,  and  at  last,  after  ten  days  of  easy  jour- 
neying, the  family  were  at  their  summer  home. 


CHAPTER  III. 

*'  IVY    BUSH." 

JVY  BUSH  "  was  the  name  of  Capt.  Lawson's 
summer  place.  It  was  a  neat  little  cottage 
nestling  at  the  base  of  ivy-clad  hills.  A  fertile  val- 
ley stretched  away  to  the  river,  which  here  came 
bounding  over  the  rocks,  forming  a  shoal  of  great 
beauty.  The  hills  lying  back  from  the  cottage 
were  not  fertile,  but  they  were  covered  with  a 
beautiful  forest  in  which,  at  this  season  of  the 
year,  the  woodland  flowers  were  in  rich  profusion: 
the  laurel,  the  ivy,  the  red  woodbine,  the  trumpet 
flower,  and  the  wild  honeysuckles,  which  were 
still  in  bloom  in  high  places,  though  it  was  early  in 
the  summer. 

Here  among  the  cedars  and  mountain  pines  and 
oaks  was  "  Ivy  Bush  "  cottage.  It  was  plain  but 
comfortable,  and  was  well  though  plainly  furnished. 
A  favorite  servant  who  lived  with  his  family  on  the 
place  winter  and  summer  kept  things  ready  for  the 
coming  owner.  There  were  hay  and  clover  in  the 
barn,  home-cured  meats  in  the  smokehouse,  and  a 

garden   full   of    early  vegetables  waiting  for   the 

(35) 


36  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

family.  It  was  indeed  a  cosy  nook  in  which  to 
hide  away,  and  the  tired  travelers  enjoyed  it  fully. 
Captain  Lawson  had  bought  the  place  five  years 
before,  and  had  improved  it  by  removing  the  un- 
sightly log  hut  in  which  the  former  owner  had 
lived  and  by  building  the  present  cottage.  lie 
kept  it  merely  for  a  retreat  from  low-country 
heats,  and  spent  from  June  to  November  at  it. 
There  were  a  hundred  acres  of  good  valley  land ; 
the  rest  was  in  forest.  The  village  of  Clarksvdlle 
was  three  miles  away,  but  on  the  hills  around  him 
some  families  from  middle  and  lower  Georgia  had 
settled  summer  residences.  It  was,  perhaps,  to  be 
regretted  that  these  people  were  numerous  enough 
to  make  up  a  circle  of  their  own,  and  that  they  did 
not  intermix  with  the  people  native  to  the  county 
to  a  greater  extent;  for  generally  people  who  know 
least  of  each  other  think  least  of  each  other,  es- 
pecially if  they  are  neighbors,  and  many  a  quarrel 
might  have  been  prevented  if  the  people  who  en- 
gaged in  it  had  been  thrown  under  the  same  roof 
for  a  week  before  it  began.  The  low-country 
people  called  the  up-country  people  "  Crackers," 
and  the  up-country  people  retaliated  by  calling 
them  "  Stuck-up  High  Flyers."  The  families  had 
but  little  intercourse  with  each  other;  but  it  so 
happened  that  Squire  Bass,  a  substantial  old  farm- 


"  IVY   BUSH.  37 

er  whose  place  adjoined  Capt.  Lawson's  had 
been  closely  connected  with  the  Captain  in  some 
business  affairs,  and  the  Captain  had  been  enter- 
tained at  his  home,  and  so  the  two  families  had  be- 
come on  quite  good  terms.  The  old  Squire  was 
one  of  the  best  specimens  of  an  up-country  farm- 
er. Religious,  sensible,  decided,  kind-hearted, 
pushing,  industrious,  and  withal  well  to  do,  he 
lived  in  great  comfort  in  his  double  log  house, 
around  which  Were  four  hundred  acres  of  arable 
land.  His  grass  and  grain  grew  in  the  valley,  and 
his  hillsides  were  for  pasturage.  Forty  years  be- 
fore he  had  moved  from  Rutherford  County,  N. 
C,  to  the  woods  of  Habersham  and  settled  on  the 
very  tract  of  land  on  which  he  lived  now.  He 
brought  with  him  his  rosy-cheeked  bride.  Peggy 
Burns  was  her  name  before  she  married.  She  was 
only  sixteen  and  he  was  eighteen  when  they  were 
wed,  and  for  near  fifty  years  they  two  had  jour- 
neyed hand  in  hand  together.  When  they  came 
to  the  wilds  she  was  a  bride,  and  she  bravely  stood 
by  him  in  all  his  early  struggles.  It  was  a  hard 
life  at  first.  The  trees  were  to  be  felled,  the  cabin 
to  be  built,  and  the  crop  to  be  made ;  and  she  had 
brought  him  no  dowry,  and  he  had  only  means 
enough  to  buy  his  land.  Her  old  mother  gave 
her  a  spinning  wheel  and  a  loom,  and  she  knew 


38  THE  BOY   IN  GRAY. 

how  to  use  them;  and  for  all  these  years  the 
Squire  had  never  worn  any  clothing  her  loom  did 
not  weave  and  her  needle  did  not  make.  His 
rich  son  from  Atlanta  sent  him  a  suit  of  broad- 
cloth, tailor  made,  but  he  left  it  in  the  great  hair- 
covered  trunk  and  wore  his-  brown  jeans  suit  still, 
Aunt  Peggy,  as  everybody  called  her,  was  a  stout 
old  body  of  sixty-five.  Her  house  was  as  neat  as 
a  pin.  The  floors  were  covered  with  rag  carpet 
woven  by  her  own  hand,  and  the  beds  were  cov- 
ered with  woolen  counterpanes  of  blue  checks  in 
winter,  with  homemade  spreads  of  snowy  whiteness 
in  summer.  Everything  told  of  her  love  of  neat- 
ness and  order.  They  had  no  well:  but  a  spring 
bubbling  at  the  foot  of  a  \vhite  oak  sent  a  merry 
brook  toward  the  river,  and  a  huge  trough  of  poplar 
into  which  the  refreshing  current  ran  furnished  a 
receptacle  for  her  crocks  of  milk  and  butter.  The 
hillside  had  on  it  a  magnificent  orchard  of  apples 
and  cherries,  and  a  row  of  huge  walnut  trees 
which  the  good  man  of  the  house  had  planted 
thirty  years  before  was  in  the  lane  in  front  of  the 
house.  They  were  contented  and  happy  old  peo- 
ple who  had  brought  up  a  large  family.  All  their 
children  were  gone  from  them  now  but  the  baby 
boy,  Jimmy  I  shall  call  him.  He  was  twenty 
years  old,  but  he  was  their  baby  boy  still.     There 


'*  IVY  BUSH."  39 

were  half  a  dozen  negro  slaves  on  the  place. 
When  the  Squire  came  to  Habersham  he  had  none ; 
but  his  wife's  mother  died,  and  a  black  man  and  his 
wife  were  their  legacy.  They  had  never  bought  a 
slave  and  never  sold  one ;  but  as  the  children  went 
from  them  they  each  took  with  them  one  of  the 
negroes  who  had  been  brought  up  with  them,  and 
now  old  Joe  and  Kitty  and  the  four  boys  were  left 
at  the  home.  I  have  lingered  long  around  this  old 
homestead;  in  truth,  I  am  loath  to  leave  it.  How 
many  happy  hours  have  I  spent  under  this  hospi- 
table roof!  No  wonder  Capt.  Lawson  loved  the 
old  people,  and  no  wonder  his  wife  was  a  favorite 
with  Mrs.  Lawson  and  Helen.  The  Squire  was  a 
stanch  Methodist  and  a  class  leader,  and  Aunt 
Peggy  had  been  one  before  him,  and  all  their  chil- 
dren followed  them.  The  Lawson  children  had 
learned  to  love  these  good  old  people,  and  Roger 
was  an  especial  favorite  with  the  old  Squire,  and 
indeed  Roger  was  a  boy  to  be  fond  of.  He  was 
so  bright,  so  generous,  so  brave,  so  unsuspicious, 
just  such  a  boy  as  makes  one  who  knows  boys  anx- 
ious lest  he  be  ruined  by  a  wicked  world.  The 
first  visitor  to  the  Lawsons  after  they  reached 
Habersham  was  the  Squire.  Jimmy  attended  to 
the  farm  now,  and  his  father  took  the  world  easy. 
He  had  an  old  horse.  Ball  was  his  name,  which 


40  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

he  had  raised  from  a  colt  and  which  his  own  hand 
had  fed  for  these  fourteen  years;  and  when  Ball 
was  seen  hitched  you  might  be  sure  the  Squire 
was  near  by.  The  Lawsons  had  not  fairly  finished 
breakfast  the  day  after  they  came  when  Roger 
called  out:  "There  is  old  Ball  at  the  gate  and 
there  is  the  Squire  !  "  And  he  ran  to  give  a  hearty 
greeting  to  his  old  friend.  "  Come  in,  Squire.  We 
are  so  glad  to  see  you.  How  is  Aunt  Peggy?  and 
how  is  Jimmy?  and  how  is  Trip?  and" — 

"  Bless  you,  boy,  give  me  a  chance  to  blov/. 
They  is  all  well,  and  how's  your  folks?  Glad  you 
is  all  back  to  Habersham." 

"Well,  come  in.  We  are  just  at  breakfast. 
Won't  you  come  and  have  some?" 

"Have  breakfast?  you  lazy  folks;  why  Jeems 
is  been  in  the  bottom  a  plowin'  this  two  hour. 
I've  had  breakfast  three  hour  ago.  But  where's 
your  pappy?  " 

"Here  he  comes  now;  he'll  be  awful  glad  to 
see  you,  and  there  is  mamma  and  Helen." 

The  old  gentleman  received  a  hearty  greeting 
from  them  all. 

"  Well,  Squire,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for 
seeing  after  things,  and  as  you  won't  let  me  pay 
you,  Helen  and  Mary  have  brought  you  and  Aunt 
Peggy  a  little  present,   and  I  made  Jack  put  in 


"  IVY  BUSH."  41 

the  wagon  a  little  sack  of  rice  as  a  present  for 
you." 

"Yes,  Uncle  Bass,"  said  Helen,  "I  have 
brought  you  a  pair  of  spectacles.  I  told  the  jewel- 
er to  give  me  some  strong  Presbyterian  ones,  so 
you  could  read  the  Bible  right;  and  here  is  Aunt 
Peggy's  present,"  giving  him  a  New  Testament 
of  extra  large  print  beautifully  bound  in  Turkey 
morocco." 

"You  brought  me  some  Prisbyteran  glasses, 
did  you,  you  sassy  gal?  Well,  they'll  have  to  be 
mighty  strong  before  I  can  see  any  of  your  Pris- 
byteran doctrine  about  election  in  the  Testa- 
ment. Well,  won't  Peggy  be  proud?  Well,  how 
have  you  all  been  this  long  time?  " 

"  O  you  can  see  we  are  all  well.  How  is  Aunt 
Peggy?"  said  Helen." 

"Well,  Peggy  is  tolerable,  she  has  a  leetel 
touch  of  the  rheumatiz,  but  she  keeps  a  gwine  and 
gets  about  right  peart.  She  says  you  must  all 
come  over  Saturday  and  take  dinner  with  us,  and 
bring  your  knittin'  and  spend  the  day.  I  must  go 
up  to  Clarksville  this  mornin',  but  I  rid  by  to  light 
a  minute.  But  I  must  be  a  gwine.  Good  morn- 
in'." And  the  old  man  and  old  Ball  were  soon 
out  of  sight. 

On  Saturday  Capt.  Lawson  and  his  family  went 


42  THE  BOY   IN  GRAY. 

over  to  spend  the  day.  What  delightful  times 
those  all-day  visits  were.  The  motherly  Aunt 
Peggy  met  them  at  the  gate  and  kissed  Mrs.  Law- 
son  and  Helen  tenderly  and  led  them  into  the 
homely  dwelling.  I  suppose  it  will  change — in- 
deed, I  know  it  has  changed — but  I  wash  it  never 
had,  those  days  of  old  when  wealth  and  style  and 
culture  did  not  come  in  to  separate  people  who 
were  made  to  love  each  other.  I  don't  know 
enough  about  the  way  women  entertain  each 
other  to  tell  of  how  pleasantly  the  hours  passed  by 
wdth  Mrs.  Lawson  and  Aunt  Peggy,  but  this  visit 
had  an  influence  on  Helen's  future  which  was 
greater  than  she  knew. 

"Well,  how  my  little  gal  has  growed,"  said 
Aunt  Peggy.  "  So  you've  left  school,  is  you? 
and  you  can  play  the  pianny  and  paint  picters, 
but  have  you  larned  how  to  cook?  Can  ye  cut  and 
make  your  own  frocks  and  make  your  pappy's 
coat  and  breeches?  " 

"  Why  no.  Aunt  Peggy,  that  was  not  taught  at 
Dr.  Marks' s  school." 

'*  Well,  it  ought  to  have  been.  I  tell  you  good 
vittals  is  a  mighty  helpful  thing  in  this  world,  and 
you  never  know  what's  gwine  to  happen.  Jeems 
won't  let  me  cook  now;  but  for  ten  year  arter  we 
was  married  he  never  eat  a  bite  I   did  not  cook. 


"  IVY  BUSH."  43 

and  I've  larned  Maria  how  to  do  it  to  suit  him. 
You  may  never  have  it  to  do,  your  mother  never 
has,  but  you  don't  know  what'll  come  to  pass." 

*'  You  are  right.  Aunt  Peggy,"  said  Mrs.  Law- 
son.  "  I  am  only  sorry  I  never  did  learn  to  do 
these  things,  and  I  wish  Helen  did  know  how  to 
manage  like  you  do." 

"  I  tell  you,  Helen,  my  child,  thar  is  nothin' 
mean  about  work;  I  know  you  can  'broider  and 
do — what  do  you  call  that  kind  of  knittin'  you  do 
with  one  needle? — crochshay,  yes,  but  to  make 
good  butter,  to  cook  good  bread,  to  knov/  how  to 
manage  with  chickens  which  has  the  pip  and  the 
sore  head  (I  never  could  manage  coleray,  though), 
is  better  than  all  that.  Never,  gal,  put  yourself 
wharyou  are  obleeged  to  marry  a  rich  man." 

"  Thank  you.  Aunt  Peggy.  If  Aunt  Judy  don't 
drive  me  out  of  the  kitchen,  I  am  going  to  learn 
how  to  cook  this  summer." 

When  Roger  went  with  the  Squire  and  his  fa- 
ther to  the  stable  he  asked  for  Jimmy. 

"Jeems  is  down  in  the  bottom.  That  young 
corn  is  growing  mighty  peart  and  needs  plowing 
mighty  bad,  and  he  and  the  boys  are  at  work 
thar.  He'll  be  up  to  dinner,  and  he'll  knock  off 
then.  I  tell  you,  Captain,  I  believe  in  boys  as 
havin'  somethin'  to  do.     The  best  thing  for  a  boy 


44  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

like  Roger  here  and  Jeems  is  to  have  regular 
work.  They  must  bar  the  yoke  in  their  youth  as 
the  Scripter  says.  They  think  their  daddies  is 
right  tight  on  'em,  but  they  get  whar  they  know  its 
best.  Jeems  would  have  liked  to  have  rested  to- 
day, case  he  thinks  a  power  of  Roger  and  Helen, 
but  he  said  he  would  not  do  so.  So,  Roger,  you 
must  enjoy  yourself  as  best  you  kin  till  he  comes. 
You  can  take  Trip  and  go  a  squirrelen  or  you 
can  ride  with  me  and  your  pappy  over  the  farm," 

"  I'll  take  Trip  and  go  squirreling,"  said  Roger. 

The  Captain  and  the  old  man  were  riding  along 
when  the  Squire  said:  "What's  'this  about  the 
Dimocrat  party  a  splitten.  What's  it  a  splitten 
about  anyhow?" 

*'  Well,  I  don't  know  the  cause  of  the  split,  but 
I  fear  the  result  of  it." 

"Do  you  think  them  black  Republicans  is  got 
any  chance  to  elect  a  President." 

"  Well,  I  am  afraid  they  have  a  good  one.  I 
got  a  long  letter  from  Alex  Stephens  (you  know 
he  and  I  were  in  college  together),  and  he  is  much 
troubled." 

"Well,  you  know,  Captain,  I  am  a  Union 
Dimocrat.  I  voted  for  Andrew  Jackson  the  first 
time  I  ever  voted,  but  I've  been  afeared  between 
the  abolitioners  and  the  fire  eaters  we  was  gwine 


"  IVY   BUSH."  45 

to  get  into  trouble."  How  is  craps  with  you 
all?" 

"  Well,  you  know  I've  lost  two  crops  of  rice 
in  succession,  but  the  prospect  now  is  good  if  we 
don't  have  another  flood." 

"  How  many  niggers  do  you  have  to  feed  any- 
how?" 

"  I  have  two  hundred  and  fifty,  all  told,  and 
when  my  rice  fails  it  is  an  almost  total  failure.  I 
have  had  to  borrow  money  largely  or  sell  my 
negroes,  and  I  could  not  do  that;  but  if  I've  a  good 
crop  this  year,  I  hope  I'll  come  out." 

"  Captain,  what  are  you  gwine  to  do  with  my 
bo}^  Roger," 

"  Well,  I  am  sending  him  to  school,  and  he  is 
about  ready  to  enter  the  university.  I  want  him 
to  make  a  scholar.  After  that  I  will  let  him  choose 
what  to  do." 

"  Captain,  you  and  I  have  always  been  good 
friends,  and,  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  would  like  to 
say  a  few  words,  case  I  think  you'll  take  it  right." 

"  Certainly,  only  don't  try  to  get  me  to  go  to 
class  meeting  again.     I  tried  that  once." 

"Well,  I  ain't  a  gwine  to  do  that;  its  about 
Roger.  You  are  not  settin'  the  right  example  be- 
fore that  boy." 


46  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

The  Captain's  cheek  reddened.  "How,"  he 
said,  "  am  I  failing?" 

"Well,  when  I  tuck  dinner  with  you  last  year 
you  know  right  before  Roger  you  asked  me  to 
jine  you  in  a  dram ;  and  when  I  would  not  you  tuck 
one  3^ourself ,  and  then  you  had  wine  on  the  table 
and  Roger  drunk  a  glass  and  you  drunk  two. 

"  Why  certainly,  1  was  raised  that  way  and  I 
never  was  drunk;  and  I  want  Roger  to  learn  to 
control  himself,  so  I  never  refuse  him  wine  when 
he  wants  it." 

"Well,  Captain,  I  can't  argy  with  you,  but 
somehow  it  don't  seem  to  me  to  be  right.  I  am 
afeard  of  consequences.  But  thar's  the  dinner 
horn;   let's  go  back." 

Jimmy  returned  from  the  field  and  Roger  from 
the  wood,  and  the  young  plowman  soon  came 
from  his  room  neatly  clad  in  his  Sunday  suit. 
The  Squire  would  not  wear  store  clothes  himself, 
but  he  bought  them  for  Jeems  he  said;  and  as  Jim- 
my had  spent  two  years  in  his  brother's  counting- 
room  in  Atlanta,  he  had  taken  on  the  easy  wa3'S 
of  a  city  boy,  and  when  he  welcomed  Roger  and 
Helen  he  did  so  with  easy  grace  and  greeted  the 
fair  girl  with  great  heartiness,  though  his  cheek 
reddened  a  little  as  he  met  her.  The  contrast  be- 
tween   the    sturdy   form    and    high    color   of    the 


"  IVY  BUSH."  47 

mountain  boy  and  the  beautiful  brunette  from  the 
coast  was  striking,  and  was  not  less  a  contrast  than 
his  hearty  tone  and  open  manner  and  her  inde- 
scribable gentleness  and  sweetness  of  tone  which 
marked  the  women  of  her  class  of  coast  people. 
Roger  was  delighted  to  see  his  old  friend.  Jim- 
my had  been  his  earliest  Habersham  friend. 
They  had  fished  for  trout  and  perch  and  hunted 
birds  and  squirrels  and  had  driven  cattle  for  the 
Squire  from  the  mountains  together.  Jimmy  was 
was  four  years  older  than  Roger,  and  the  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Lawson  were  not  unwilling  for  Roger  to 
have  a  companion  whom  they  could  trust  so  im- 
plicitly. As  for  Helen,  it  was  not  to  be  supposed 
by  them  that  she  would  feel  anything  greater  than 
a  friend's  interest  in  Jimmy,  nor  did  they  suppose 
he  would  in  her,  and  they  were  right.  The  old 
Squire  and  his  good  wife  would  have  been  as  little 
pleased  with  the  prospect  of  a  tender  passage  be- 
tween these  young  folks  as  the  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Lawson.  So  if  you  think  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a 
love  story  and  to  tell  you  that  the  handsome  young 
plowman  was  going  to  fall  in  love  with  the  plant- 
er's daughter,  and  that  there  was  going  to  be  a  real 
romance,  you  are  mistaken.  The  truth  is,  Mary 
Blakely,  over  the  mountains,  had  already  won  Jim- 
my's heart,  and  at  the  last  Loudsville  camp  meet- 


48  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

inff  the  enfragement  had  been  made,  and  that  fact 
was  much  to  the  gratification  of  the  old  people, 
but  that  was  no  reason  why  Jimmy  should  not  like 
Helen.  She  was  as  cordial  as  a  warm-hearted 
girl  could  be,  and  he  did  like  her.  So  when  din- 
ner was  over  the  young  folks  went  out  hunting 
flowers  on  the  hillsides,  which  only  a  month  before 
had  been  bleak  and  bare.  The  mountain  country 
where  the  Lawsons  lived  was  over  1,800  feet 
higher  than  their  coast  plantation;  and  while  the 
early  flowers  were  gone  long  ago  in  Liberty,  the 
fields  and  woods  of  Habersham  were  in  richest 
loveliness  in  June. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when,  after  a  day 
of  real  enjoyment,  the  family  returned  home. 
The  maid  met  them  with  the  announcement  that 
Col.  Du  Barry,  his  wife,  and  Miss  Flora  had  called 
while  they  were  gone,  and  left  their  cards  and  an 
invitation  for  them  to  dine  at  the  "  Crow's  Nest" 
on  Wednesday  next. 

Col.  Du  Barry  was  a  retired  factor  from  Savan- 
nah. He  had  a  large  planting  interest  in  lower 
Georgia,  several  rice  plantations,  and  any  quantity 
of  money  and  bonds.  He  did  not  Hke  the  water- 
ing places  of  the  North,  and  his  hay  fever  was  re- 
lieved by  the  mountain  air;  and  so  he  had  an  ele- 
gant home  to  which  he  came  every  year,  and  to 


"  IVY  BUSH."  49 

which  his  wife  came  when  she  did  not  go  to  Sara- 
toga or  the  White  Sulphur,  which  she  was  pretty- 
apt  to  do  every  summer.  They  were  now  in 
Habersham ;  and  as  they  knew  the  Lawsons  well, 
they  called  to  invite  them  to  dine.  The  invited 
guests  went  to  the  elegant  dinner  and  had  an 
evening  of  what  the  world  calls  enjoyment. 
The  old  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Du  Barry,  and  Capt. 
Lawson  and  Mrs.  Lawson  played  whist  at  one 
table,  and  young  Du  Barry  and  his  sister  and 
Helen  and  Roger  played  another  game  of  cards  at 
another  table.  Wine  was  freely  served  at  dinner, 
and  all  drank  as  a  matter  of  course ;  but  when  they 
went  home  they  agreed  vv^ith  Roger  when  he  said : 
"  You  may  say  what  you  please,  but  I  like  Squire 
Bass  and  Aunt  Peggy's  plain  ways  better  than  all 
this  fuss  and  feathers."  That  is,  I  am  sure,  the 
honest  opinion  we  all  have;  but  I  fear  that  if  you 
and  I  were  rich  enough  we  would  rather  be  called 
Du  Barry  than  Bass,  and  dine  as  late  and  in  as  good 
form  as  the  Du  Barrys  did  than  at  twelve  o'clock 
and  in  the  simple  way  of  the  Squire,  but  it  would 
not  make  Roger's  remark  any  the  less  sensible. 
4 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  CHAPTER  WHICH  I  WISH  COULD  BE  LEFT  OUT. 

^W^HE  love  I  had  for  Roger  would  have  led  me  to 
^  have  kept  back  everything  which  detracted 
from  him,  but  a  faithful  biographer  must  tell  the 
truth  or  not  spea:k  at  all.  Roger  had  been  a  good 
boy  up  to  the  present  time.  When  he  was  very 
small  he  had  been  very  religious.  His  old  colored 
mammy  used  to  talk  to  him  a  great  deal  about  God 
and  heaven  and  hell;  and  his  dear  mother  used  to 
read  to  him  from  the  Bible  and  from  good  books, 
and  teach  him  to  sing  and  to  pray.  He  learned 
the  Shorter  Catechism  by  heart,  and  old  Dr. 
Preston,  the  pastor  of  Med  way,  after  he  was  four- 
teen more  than  once  expressed  the  hope  that  he 
would  come  into  the  Church  at  the  next  communion. 
It  would  have  been  so  easy  then  for  a  gentle  hand 
to  have  led  him  into  the  fold,  for  he  was  so  near 
the  kingdom  of  God;  but  childhood  passed,  and 
thoughtless  boyhood  came ;  and  now  he  was  near- 
ing  young  manhood,  and  had  not  professed  re- 
ligion. He  had  been  taught  to  shrink  from  false- 
hood, cowardice,  penuriousness,  rudeness,  and 
(50) 


A  REGRETFUL   CHAPTER.  5 I 

cruelty,  and  he  had  a  wholesome  aversion  to  them 
all;  but  alas!  he  had  never  been  taught  that  re- 
ligious faith  was  for  a  little  boy,  and  he  had  not 
taken  Jesus  as  his  Saviour,  and  had  never  been 
made  anew  by  his  grace. 

Dick  Du  Barry  was  as  graceless  a  young  repro- 
bate as  ever  wore  decent  clothing,  but  he  was  as 
fascinating  as  he  was  vile.  His  mother  was  a 
woman  of  fashion,  and  his  father  a  man  of  the 
world.  The  family  was  of  '  the  earth,  earthy. 
Dick,  although  he  was  no  orphan,  had  never 
known  a  mother's  tender  care.  iVnother  breast 
nourished  him  when  a  babe,  and  another  hand  at- 
tended him  as  a  little  child.  High-spirited  and 
willful,  the  handsome,  smart  little  fellow  soon 
learned  how  to  tyrannize  over  inferiors  and  how 
to  secure  his  ends,  and  he  used  his  knowledge  to 
good  effect.  His  governess  gave  him  up  as  incor- 
rigible as  she  gave  up  her  place,  and  he  was  sent 
while  still  a  child  to  a  boarding  school,  and  sent 
back  home  by  the  teacher.  Then,  when  he  was 
older,  he  was  sent  to  Maj.  Bingham.  The  Major 
would  have  conquered  the  stubborn,  willful  boy  by 
his  military  discipline ;  but  he  smuggled  out  a  let- 
ter to  his  mother,  telling  the  most  doleful  story  of 
his  wrongs,  and  she  sent  for  him  to  come  home. 
Then  his  father,  who  had  been  educated  by  the 


52  THE   EOY   IN   GRAY. 

Jesuits,  sent  him  to  Spring  Hill;  but  the  good  fa- 
thers dismissed  him  from  school,  and  he  was  now 
in  Habersham. 

There  were  some  things  Dick  knew  perfectly. 
He  was  fully  up  on  etiquette,  he  knew  how  to 
dance  all  the  new  figures,  and  there  was  no  game 
of  cards,  from  faro  to  whist,  which  he  could  not 
teach  one  to  play.  He  was  a  capital  rider,  a  good 
shot,  and  dressed  in  perfect  taste.  There  was 
nothing  rude  or  blustering  in  his  manner,  and  his 
French  blood  indicated  its  presence  by  a  beauti- 
ful polish.  He  had  seen  the  world;  he  had  gone 
with  his  mother,  season  after  season,  to  Saratoga 
and  White  Sulphur,  in  Virginia,  and  he  went  with 
her  on  her  trip  to  Paris.  He  profited  by  his  op- 
portunities to  learn  everything  that  he  ought  not 
to  have  known. 

Poor  Roger  was  never  away  from  his  country 
home.  Unsuspecting,  confiding,  he  was  just  such 
a  boy  as  nearly  always  falls  a  victim  to  such  a  foe 
as  young  Du  Barry  was. 

Dick  did  not  dislike  Roger;  on  the  other  hand, 
he  was  very  fond  of  him,  and  it  v/as  all  the  worse 
for  Roger  that  he  was.  In  a  little  while  Roger 
was  completely  under  his  control,  and  woe  to  him 
that  it  was  so !     Every  day  they  were  together. 

In  Dick's  bedroom  there  was  a  trunk  in  which 


A  REGRETFUL  CHAPTER.  53 

he  had  stored  away  a  number  of  those  vile  books 
which  even  the  law  shuts  out  from  the  mails,  and 
v/hose  only  claim  to  distinction  is  that  they  are 
vile.  He  had  no  end  of  stories  of  flirtations  and 
escapades.  Many  of  these  stories  were  false,  and 
some,  alas!  were  true. 

The  young  folks  at  "  Crow's  Nest"  and  "Ivj'- 
Bush"  had  their  card  parties  and  tiieir  dances 
and  their  excursions;  the  heads  of  the  families 
still  opened  their  wine,  and  drank  their  cognac. 
The  Lawson  family  went  in  regularly  to  the  little 
church  in  the  village,  and  Mrs.  Lawson  read  de- 
voutly her  Bible  every  day,  and  read  the  New  York 
Observer  on  Sunday  afternoon;  and  no  one  saw 
that  a  serpent  was  already  coiled,  and  about  to 
strike  the  son,  the  pride  of  the  household. 

It  was  by  gradual,  and  yet  rapid,  movement 
that  the  noble  boy  fell  into  bad  ways.  I  need  not 
particularize.  He  was  but  a  bo}^,  not  quite  sev- 
enteen, a  warm-hearted,  thoughtless,  fun-loving 
boy,  without  religion,  who  had  been  allowed  to 
tamper  with  drink  and  with  cards  all  his  life.  He 
knew  that  his  mother  would  never  suspect  him  of 
wrongdoing,  and  believed  that  his  father  would 
not  be  severe  in  his  censure  of  his  vagaries  if  he 
should  discover  them.  When  he  first  became 
conscious  that  he  had  taken  too  much  wine,  there 


54  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

was  a  feeling  of  deep  shame  and  remorse ;  but  the 
pride  of  the  Lawsons  came  to  his  aid,  and  he  re- 
solved that  he  would  prove  he  was  strong  enough 
to  resist  the  next  time.  True,  Dick  Du  Barry  had 
taken  three  glasses  to  his  one,  but  he  would  not 
go  even  that  far  again,  even  though  he  did  not  to- 
tally abstain. 

Dick  and  Roger  were  almost  inseparable.  His 
old  friend,  Jimmie  Bass,  found  Roger  somewhat 
cold,  and  quietly  drew  off  from  him;  and  the 
Squire  looked  sad  when  Roger's  name  was  men- 
tioned, and  when  Dick  and  Roger  came  dashing 
by  old  Ball  and  his  master  as  they  were  going  to 
Clarksville,  and  there  was  scarcely  a  recognition, 
the  old  man's  face  was  shadowed,  and  he  said  to 
himself,  "  Tut,  tut !  shame,  shame  I  blind,  blind  !  " 
"What  he  meant  he  knew.     I  could  only  conjecture. 

The  billiard  room  in  Clarksville  was  a  favorite 
resort  of  the  boys,  and  Roger  and  Dick  joined 
their  other  friends.  The  pool  was  made,  money 
was  lost  and  won  in  trifling  amounts ;  but  gaming 
had  begun. 

The  Captain  was  absorbed  in  politics;  Helen 
was  painting  a  landscape  and  reading  Mr.  Dickens's 
new  book,  "  Dombey  and  Son;  "  and  poor  Roger 
was  going  to  the  bad,  and  nobody  saw  it.  Nobody? 
Yes,  One  saw  it,  and  that  One  in  mercy  interfered. 


A  REGRETFUL   CHAPTER.  55 

His  divine  Father  had  an  eye  on  him  which  never 
slept,  and  he  is  understood  how  to  act.  There 
are  times  that  sin  has  to  uncover  itself  and  show 
what  it  will  do  before  the  sinner  will  pause;  but 
the  devil  sometimes  defeats  himself,  or  his  agents 
disobey  his  instructions. 

Dick  and  Roger,  often  under  the  pretense  of  go- 
ing to  churches  to  meeting,  took  long  rides  into  the 
country  round  about;  and  though  they  did  go  to 
meeting,  they  went  for  a  frolic,  and  not  for  de- 
votion. 

One  Saturday  Dick  said  to  Roger:  "  Roger, 
there's  going  to  be  a  meeting  of  the  Tiger  Tail 
Association  up  on  Tallulah  to-morrow,  and  a 
crowd  of  us  are  going  up  to  have  a  rare  time. 
Don't  let  the  women  folks  know  where  you  are 
going,  but  just  tell  themx  you  are  going  to  church, 
and  ride  over  by  my  house  and  we'll  go  up." 

"All  right;   I'll  come." 

Roger  did  not  come  to  that  conclusion  without 
compunction,  but  he  had  committed  himself  to 
Dick  so  completely  that  he  was  not  disposed  to  re- 
sist. Dick  and  the  Heyward  boys  and  Alfred 
Hartley  formed  a  group  of  fast  low-country  boys, 
all  older  than  Roger  and  all  of  them  from  the  best 
families.  They  hunted  deer  and  foxes  together, 
and  in  all  the  frolics  of  the  time  they  had  their 


56  Tim   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

share.  They  did  not  always  go  to  the  most  repu- 
table places  and  did  not  meet  the  most  reputable 
people,  and  sometimes  they  had  unpleasant  con- 
flicts with  the  county  youths. 

The  Durham  boys  lived  in  a  cove  of  the  moun- 
tains. There  were  five  of  them.  They  were 
rude,  uneducated,  coarse,  and  courageous.  They 
delighted  in  their  physical  strength  and  enjoyed 
nothing  more  than  a  row.  The  coterie  of  low- 
country  bloods  had  aroused  their  ire,  and  there 
was  danger  of  open  conflict.  It  came  sooner  than 
they  thought.  The  3'^oung  men  from  the  low 
country  who  went  to  the  Association  were  all 
drinking,  Roger  among  them.  They  were  in  a 
hilarious  mood  when  they  reached  the  grounds 
where  the  Association  was  held.  There  was  quite 
a  crowd  gathered.  A  shelter  was  made  by  plac- 
ing the  boughs  of  the  small  oaks  on  a  frame,  and 
seats  were  made  of  logs.  This  constituted  the 
preaching  place.  The  preachers,  dressed  in 
homely  garb,  were  preaching  from  this  stand. 
Elder  Pigeon,  from  Rabun,  was  holding  forth  in 
a  quaint  style  on  "And  the  oil  stayed;"  and  he 
was  followed  by  Elder  Tucker,  on  "And  he  took 
thereout  a  rib."  The  sermons  were  certainly 
unique  enough,  and  the  tone  was  as  striking  as 
the  texts  were  odd.     The  group  of  which  Roger 


A   REGRETFUL  CHAPTER.  57 

was  one  were  more  amused  than  profited,  and  they 
did  not  hide  their  merriment.  More  than  once  they 
laughed  outright.  Bob  Durham  was  not  a  mem- 
ber of  the  old  side  Church,  but  he  was  akin  to 
the  preacher  who  was  forced  to  rebuke  sharply 
the  irreverent  youngsters,  and  his  ire  rose  at  their 
disrespect  to  the  place.  He  glared  at  the  crowd 
angrily,  and  when  they  rose  to  leave,  as  they  did 
in  the  midst  of  the  sermon,  he  and  his  brothers 
rose  too,  and  they  went  to  where  the  offenders 
had  their  horses.  Walking  up  to  Dick  Du  Barry, 
he  said  sharply:  "  Well,  you'd  better  leave  here. 
You  think  yourself  powerful  smart  with  your  fine 
clothes  and  highty-tighty  airs,  but  if  you  don't 
leave  here  pretty  quick  there'll  be  a  way  found  to 
make  ye." 

The  boys  were  half  intoxicated  and  were  ready 
for  a  row.  Dick  was  no  coward ;  and,  shaking  his 
whip  at  Durham,  he  angrily  said:  "  You'll  make 
me,  will  you?  If  you  don't  want  a  taste  of  this 
whip,  you  will  get  away  from  here." 

"I  will,  will  I?  If  you'll  pull  off  that  broad- 
cloth coat  and  stand  up  like  a  man,  I'll  teach  you 
some  manners." 

"  Manners,  you  blackguard?  You'll  teach  me? 
I'll  horsev/hip  you  if  you  say  a  word." 

"  Well,    maybe    3^ou    will,    smarty,    after    I've 


58  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

smacked  your  jaws,  and  I'll  do  that  before  you 
knov/  it." 

With  a  sudden  stroke  Dick  brought  his  whip 
down  on  the  rustic's  shoulders,  and  in  a  moment 
the  sturdy  mountaineer  had  him  by  the  throat  and 
blow  after  blow  from  the  stout  hickory  riding 
switch  he  had  in  his  hand  fell  on  the  broadcloth 
coat  of  Du  Barry. 

Roger  rushed  up  to  the  aid  of  his  friend,  and 
Bill  Durham,  Bob's  sturdy  brother,  seized  him 
and  threw  him  down;  and  was  about  to  fall  upon 
him  when  Jim  Phillips  and  Jimmy  Bass  came  on 
the  scene.  Phillips  separated  the  two  combatants, 
Du  Barry  and  Bob ;  and  Jimmy  seized  Roger  and 
violently  led  him  away. 

"That  will  do.  Bob,"  said  Phillips;  "let  him 
alone;   I'll  take  care  of  him." 

"Well,  take  him  away,  Jim  Phillips.  You's  a 
gentleman,  if  you  is  rich;  but  if  you  don't,  I'll 
maul  the  life  outen  him." 

Roger  was  angry  enough  to  have  dared  any 
danger,  and  struggled  to  rush  to  his  friend's  help; 
but  he  was  a  child  in  Jimmy's  hands,  and  Jimmy 
held  him  firmly  as  he  said  to  Bill:  "  Bill,  3"0u  and 
I  are  good  friends;  now  let  this  drop  for  my 
sake." 


A  REGRETFUL  CHAPTER.  59 

**  Well,  Jim,  I  will,  but  no  man  shall  tech  my 
brother  in  a  far  fight." 

The  feeling  of  Roger  as  he  rode  away  was  not 
to  be  envied;  the  Sabbath  desecrated,  and  now  a 
disgraceful  row  in  which  he  bore  so  shameful  a 
part  was  what  his  course  brought  about,  and  his 
mortification  and  anger  were  both  increased  when 
the  very  person  who  had  influenced  him  to  do  these 
things  angrily  said:  "Roger  Lawson,  you  are  a 
brave  friend,  aren't  3^ou,  to  stand  by  and  see  a 
friend  beaten  like  a  dog  because  you  were  too 
cowardly  to  help  him?  " 

"He  did  want  to  help  you,  Mr.  Du  Barry," 
said  Jimmy  Bass  very  decidedly;  "  and  if  there  is 
anybody  to  blame  for  his  not  doing  it,  it  is  not 
Roger  Lawson  but  Jimmy  Bass,  and  you  know 
where  to  find  him." 

Jimm}'  and  Roger  rode  on  together.  The  others 
of  the  group  had  now  come  up ;  and  Du  Barry,  an- 
gry and  humiliated,  rode  off  at  a  rapid  pace  with 
them . 

"  Roger,"  said  Jimmy,  as  they  parted  at  the  gate, 
"  I'll  see  you  to-morrow  night.     Good-bye  now." 

The  next  night  he  came,  and  Roger  joined  him 
for  a  walk.  "  Roger,"  said  his  old  friend,  "  v/e've 
been  boys  together,  and  I've  seen  where  you  were 
going  to  lately,  and  now  this  thing  must  be  stopped, 


60  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

or  you  are  a  ruined  boy.  To  think  of  your  moth- 
er's son  and  Miss  Helen's  brother  taking  up  with 
such  a  crowd!     I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

Roger's  eyes  were  opened.  He  saw  the  gulf  he 
had  just  escaped,  and  not  too  soon ;  but  the 
deepest  pang  was  before  him.  His  father,  igno- 
rant of  what  had  happened,  went  to  the  village, 
when  Col.  Billups  called  him  into  his  ofiice.  "  Cap- 
tain," he  said,  "  Squire  Larkins  came  to  see  me 
to-day  to  have  a  presentment  made  to  the  next 
grand  jury  of  a  crowd  of  boys  who  are  accused 
of  disturbing  public  worship,  and  your  boy  was 
among  them.  I  begged  the  Squire  to  hold  up  till  I 
could  see  you." 

"Impossible  !  Col.  Billups,  it  Is  impossible !  My 
boy  has  been  too  well  bred." 

"  Well,  you  see  Jimmy  Bass.  He  was  there,  and 
will  tell  you  all  about  it." 

He  went  at  once  to  the  Squire's,  and  sent  for 
Jimmy.  Jimmy  told  the  story  as  it  was.  Roger 
was  intoxicated,  and  he  did  disturb  public  wor- 
ship. 

The  Captain's  face  burned  with  indignation. 
"To  think  that  I  have  trusted  him  so,  and  he  has 
disgraced  me!  I  will  send  him  to  Maj.  Bingham, 
and  let  him  tame  him,"  he  said  to  Squire  Bass. 

Squire  Bass  said  calmly  and  gently,  but  sadl}^: 


A  REGRETFUL   CHAPTER.  6 I 

"No,  Captain,  you  will  do  no  sich  thing.  You 
remember  my  talk  with  you.  You  are  to  blame, 
not  the  boy." 

*' Yes,  Squire,  I  am.  II  Roger  goes  to  the  bad, 
I  am  to  blame;  but  hear  me,  the  last  decanter  of 
brandy  has  been  used  at  my  house,  and  the  last 
bottle  of  wine  has  been  opened  there." 

"That's  right,  Captain.  Now  don't  be  hard 
on  Roger.  I've  raised  six  boys.  I  know  'em. 
Take  the  self-respect  from  'em,  and  you  haint 
nothin'  left.  Talk  plain  to  him,  but  be  kind. 
Make  him  quit  a  goin'  with  that  Du  Barry  boy. 
Give  him  somethin'  to  do,  and  trust  in  God  for  the 
rest." 

"  Thank  you,  my  old  friend;  and  may  God  for- 
give a  poor,  misguided,  sinning  father,  and  save 
his  boy  from  ruin  !  " 

The  Captain  came  sadly  home.  He  saw  that 
the  frank  face  of  his  proud  boy  was  clouded,  and 
the  firm-set  lips  told  of  his  determination  to  resent 
rebuke,  but  rebuke  did  not  come.  The  father 
told  his  son  sadly  of  what  he  had  heard,  told  him 
of  the  pang  he  had  suffered,  and  then  made  an 
honest  and  humble  confession  of  his  own  error. 
The  boy  was  melted.  He  asked  his  father  not  to 
let  his  mother  or  Helen  know;  and  they  never  did, 
and  so  Roger  escaped  the  snare. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SOME    PLEASING   EVENTS. 

T%TELEN  had  not  forgotten  the  advice  given  by 
•*■  I  Aunt  Peggy,  and  she  had  intended  to  act 
upon  it;  but  she  had  delayed,  partly  because  she 
had  a  picture  to  finish,  and  partly  because  she  was 
afraid  of  Mom  Judy.  Mom  Judy,  the  v/idow  of 
Daddy  Juba,  had  been  the  chief  cook  of  the  Law- 
sons  ever  since  Helen  could  remember,  and  no 
Catherine  of  Russia,  or  Elizabeth  of  England, 
ever  ruled  with  a  more  autocratic  sway  than  Mom 
Judy  ruled  her  kitchen.  She  was  almost  as  broad 
as  she  was  long.  Her  head  was  always  turbaned 
with  a  red  handkerchief,  and  her  strong  arms  were 
bare  to  the  elbow.  Her  kitchen  was  her  castle, 
and  no  one  dared  to  cross  its  sacred  threshold 
without  her  consent.  She  had  a  helper  in  a 
negro  girl,  whom  she  could  alternately  lecture,  ad- 
vise, and  scold  ;  but  for  this  I  cannot  say  what  would 
have  become  of  Mom  Judy.  I  hope,  however,  the 
effect  of  Chloe's  absence  would  not  have  been 
quite  so  serious  as  she  said:  "  De  trute  is,  honey, 
(62) 


SOME   PLEASING   EVENTS.  63 

I  am  jes  obleeged  to  scole  somebody,  or  dis  ole 
nigger  would  bust  wide  open ;  she  would  for  true." 
And  that  would  have  been  a  calamity  of  no  small 
magnitude.  She  came  every  morning  to  her  mis- 
tress to  get  orders  for  the  day,  and  Helen  went 
with  he>r  to  the  pantry  and  the  smokehouse,  and 
supplied  her  demands,  and  after  these  stores  went 
into  the  kitchen  no  one  knew  more  of  them  till 
they  reappeared  on  the  table. 

The  kitchen  was  some  little  distance  from  the 
house.  It  was  a  rather  large  room  with  a  large 
fireplace,  in  which  was  a  crane  for  the  pot,  and  a 
full  supply  of  pots,  kettles,  ovens,  skillets,  spiders, 
frying  pans,  etc.,  and,  indeed,  all  the  needful  furni- 
ture for  a  good  kitchen. 

The  floor  was  always  neatly  sanded  with  white 
sand  from  the  brook,  and  the  room  was  kept 
scrupulously  clean. 

Stoves  were  not  common  in  the  South  in  that 
day ;  and  while  there  was  one  here.  Mom  Judy  pro- 
tested against  the  innovation,  and  still  used  her 
old  utensils.  Indeed,  if  she  could  not  have  seen 
the  red  coals  on  the  lid  and  basted  the  big  turkey 
in  the  great  oven  and  heard  the  bubbling  of  the 
boiling  pot,  she  would  have  been  unhappy. 

Chloe  was  her  scullion.  She  was  her  grand- 
daughter, and  Mom  Judy's  ambition  was  to  make 


64  THE   BOY  IN   GRAY. 

a  high-order  cook  out  of  Chloe ;  but  the  wayward 
girl  taxed  her  patience  sorely.  To-day,  as  usual, 
Mom  Judy  was  on  the  rampage,  and  Chloe  was  in 
vain  protesting,  with  an  air  of  injured  innocence, 
in  a  kind  of  soliloquy:  "I  clar  I  cain't  please 
grandmammy  no  way;  if  I  does  somethin'  she 
fusses,  if  I  does  nothin'  she  fusses,  if  I  try  to 
please  her  she  fusses,  and  if  I  don't  try  to  please 
her  she  fusses;   she  is  de  worry  ob  my  life." 

She  was  now  giving  Chloe  fair  warning  that  she 
*'  would  bust  her  head  open  wid  dat  rollin'  pin  de 
fust  thing  she  knowed,"  which  threats  did  not 
seem  to  alarm  Chloe  in  the  least. 

Just  then  Helen  came  tripping  into  the  kitchen. 
In  a  moment  there  v/as  a  calm,  and  a  broad  smile 
covered  the  black  face  as  she  said:  "Well,  little 
missie,  glad  to  see  you  in  de  kitchen.  What  kin 
your  old  mammy  do  fer  you?  " 

*' Well,  Aunt  Judy,  I  have  come  to  get  you  to 
learn  me  to  cook." 

An  expression  of  blank  amazement  came  over 
the  old  face.  Was  her  "little  missie  jes  a  projeckin' 
wid  her.  Yes,  dat  was  it,"  and  with  a  hearty  laugh 
she  said:  "I  larn  3'ou  to  cook?  Yes,  w^hen  my 
little  missie  larnsole  Judy  how  to  play  de  peanner." 

*'  No,  Aunt  Jud}^,  I  am  serious;  I  want  to  learn 
how  to  cook." 


SOME   PLEASING  EVENTS.  65 

'Aunt  Judy  looked  in  alarm.  Had  her  little  mis- 
tress lost  her  mind?  What  was  the  matter?  But 
Helen  said :  ' '  Now,  Aunt  Judy,  be  a  good  old  dear, 
and  show  me  how.     Aunt  Peggy  told  me  to  learn." 

"  Well,  dat  splains  it.  When  quality  folks  go 
wid  buckra  folks  deys  gwine  to  larn  buckra  ways. 
Why,  little  missus,  dat  ting  jes  can't  be.  I  been 
cook  for  my  ole  missus,  your  mudder's  mudder, 
an'  my  young  missus,  your  mudder,  an'  nebber  one 
er  dem  put  de  foot  in  de  kitchen,  'cept  to  give  me 
my  orders.     Why,  little  missie,  it  jes  cain't  be." 

"  But,  Aunt  Judy,  we  may  be  poor  some  day." 

"  Po?  Why,  Miss  Helen!  Who  eber  hear  ob 
a  Lawson  er  a  Maxwell  bein'  po?  Ain't  massa 
got  two  hundred  an'  fift}'  likely  niggers,  an'  eber 
so  many  tousand  acres  er  land?  an'  now  you  want 
to  cook  like  po  buckra.  No,  little  missie,  it  jes 
cain't  be." 

"  But  I  may  marry  a  poor  man,  and  have  to  work 
some  day." 

"  You  marry  a  po  man?  You — what,  Col.  Max- 
well's granddarter?  Why,  Miss  Helen,  a  po  man 
won't  dar  look  at  you.  No,  you  go  back  an'  paint 
your  pretty  pictures ;  you  cain't  come  in  here." 

"  Well,  Aunt  Judy,  mother  says  I  may." 

"Well,  ef  young  missus  say  so,  den  I  say  so. 
Now,    dar's    dat   new   ting   over   dar   yer   pappy 


66  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

brougnt  nere,  dat  new  stove.  I  ain't  use  'em,  and 
I  don't  want  to  use  'em;  but  Til  make  Chloe  kin- 
dle you  a  fire  in  'em,  and  den  I'll  do  what  young 
missie  say.  But  what  would  my  ole  missus  say  if 
she  seed  it?  " 

So  Helen  took  her  first  lesson  in  the  fine  art  of 
cookinfj. 

I  confess  my  ignorance  along  here.  The  mys- 
teries of  the  kitchen  I  reckon  I  will  never  solve; 
but  my  admiration  for  the  girl  who  knows  how 
to  broil  a  steak,  make  a  roll,  or  draw  a  cup  of 
rich,  clear  coffee  from  the  fragrant  berry,  grows 
with  m}^  advancing  years. 

When  Roger  saw  his  sister  in  the  kitchen  he  re- 
solved that  he  would  learn  something  too.  He 
proposed  to  his  father  to  take  a  farm  hand's  place 
for  the  summer,  and  the  Captain  employed  him 
at  regular  wages;  and  he  donned  the  dress  of  a 
farmer  boy,  and  went  into  the  field  regular]3\ 
What  he  did,  he  did  well.  Jimmy  Bass  and  he 
met  in  the  hayfields  and  the  cornfields.  Dick 
Du  Barry  no  longer  recognized  him,  and  Miss 
Flora  only  nodded  her  head;  but  Roger  cared 
little  for  that.  He  had  more  serious  views  of  life, 
and  took  up  again  those  religious  habits  which  he 
for  some  time  past  had  laid  aside,  and  was  Roger 
over  a<rain. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  RATHER  DULL  BUT  AN  IMPORTANT  CHAPTER. 

fAPT.  LAWSON  was  quite  an  intelligent 
man,  and  took  great  interest  in  political  mat- 
ters. He  saw  the  clouds  gathering  in  deeper  vol- 
ume on  the  political  sky,  and  could  not  conceal 
his  anxiety.  Few  persons  at  this  day  can  realize 
the  bitterness  of  the  political  parties  before  the 
war.  There  were  then  in  the  field  four  parties: 
the  Breckinridge  Democrat,  the  Douglas  Demo- 
crat, the  Bell  and  Everett  or  American  party, 
and  the  Republicans.  The  Republican  party 
had  no  existence  in  Georgia,  and  so  bitter  was 
the  feeling  against  it  that  one's  life  would  have 
been  in  danger  if  he  had  avowed  connection  with 
that  party.  Two  things  had  fastened  themselves 
on  every  Southern  mind:  the  one  that  if  negro 
slavery  was  overthrown  white  men  could  not  live 
in  the  South;  and  the  other,  that  the  Republican 
party  was  determined  to  overthrow  it.  The  first 
of  these  views  was  not  correct,  we  know,  but  it  was 
held;   and  the  last  may  not  have  been   true,  and 

was  certainly  disavowed.     It  was  hoped   by  men 

(GT) 


68  THE   BOY  IN  GRAY. 

like  Capt.  Lawson  that  the  middle  ground  of  the 
American  party,  as  unobjectionable,  and  men  as 
John  Bell  and  Edward  Everett,  who  were  candi- 
dates, might  be  accepted  by  both  sections  and  that 
peace  might  still  hold  sway,  but  it  was  soon  evident 
that  when  a  divided  Democratic  and  a  united  Re- 
publican party  were  in  conflict  there  could  be  but 
one  result,  and  from  that  Capt.  Lawson  shrank  ba.ck 
in  great  dread.  He  had  returned  with  his  family 
to  Liberty.  The  rice  had  been  reaped  and 
thrashed  and  sent  to  his  factors  in  Savannah  to  be 
prepared  for  market;  for  after  the  grain  has  been 
cleared  from  straw  and  chaff  on  the  plantation 
it  must  be  pounded  at  the  rice  mills  in  the  city 
until  the  yellow  covering  is  stripped  from  it, 
when  it  is  sorted  and  packed  in  tierces,  and 
shipped  to  all  parts  of  the  world.  There  had  no 
disaster  befallen  the  crop,  and  all  things  on  the  es- 
tate promised  well.  The  Captain  cast  his  ballot 
for  John  Bell  and  Edward  Everett  and  went  to  his 
home.  He  had  a  feeling  of  genuine  depression, 
for  he  felt  assured  that  his  vote  had  been  in  vain, 
and  it  was.  In  a  week  came  the  news.  The  Re- 
publican party  was  victorious.  Mr.  Lincoln  was 
elected.  There  was  now  consternation  through- 
out the  South.  Something  must  be  done,  but 
what?     I  have  a  vivid  remembrance  of  these  days, 


DULL  BUT   IMPORTANT.  69 

and  one  more  vivid  than  pleasant.  When  the 
Captain  reached  home  the  cloud  on  his  face  told 
of  the  news  he  had  heard. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  his  wife,  "what  is  the 
matter?  " 

"As  I  feared,  Mr.  Lincoln  is  elected,  and  what 
that  means  God  only  can  tell." 

"  Well,  what  of  that?  Surely  the  election  of  a 
candidate  you  did  not  prefer  does  not  mean  so 
much  as  you  seem  to  think." 

"  No,  it  would  not  if  it  had  been  Douglas  or 
Breckinridge.  But  a  black  Republican  in  the 
Presidency  will  not  be  borne.  He  must  be  a 
foe  to  slavery,  and  its  overthrow  is  our  ruin. 
South  Carolina  will  secede,  and  other  slave  States 
will  follow." 

"Will  there  be  a  war?" 

"  God  forbid!  Alex  Stephens  writes  me,  how- 
ever, that  if  there  is  secession  it  will  certainly 
come;  and  when  it  comes  who  can  tell  what  will 
be  the  end?     Alas  for  party  hate !  " 

That  night  Roger  and  his  father  had  a  long  talk. 
If  my  young  friends  will  be  a. little  patient,  perhaps 
I  can  tell  them  what  they  have  wished  to  know: 
why  so  many  good  people  in  the  South  went  into 
the  war. 

"  Father,"  said  Roger,  "  who  made  the  Union?" 


70  .  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

"The  colonies,  my  son." 

"What  colonies?" 

"  The  thirteen  independent  colonies." 

"  Who  made  them  independent?  " 

"  The  English  Government,  whose  colonies  they 
were,  declared  them  such." 

"  How  came  these  independent  governments 
united  into  one." 

"  They  made  a  Confederacy." 

"  For  what  purpose?  " 

"  For  their  own  protection." 

"  Did  any  one  surrender  all  right  to  withdraw 
from  this  Confederacy?  " 

"  No;  on  the  contrary,  some  of  them  stipulated 
that  they  would  withdraw  if  their  safety  demand- 
ed it." 

"  Did  any  State  ever  do  so?  " 

"No." 

"  Did  any  ever  propose  to  do  so?  " 

"  Yes;  the  New  England  States  said  that  if  cer- 
tain things  were  not  done  they  would  withdraw." 

"  Were  these  things  done?  " 

"They  were,  or  at  least  the  grievance  was  re- 
moved." 

"  Why  are  we  afraid  of  Mr.  Lincoln?  " 

"  Because  he  is  put  in  by  the  antislavery  peo- 
ple." 


DULL   LUT   LMPORTANT.  *J1 

"  Will  they  destroy  slavery?  " 

"  Thev  promise  to  do  so." 

"  Will  that  destroy  us?  " 

"Jtwill." 

"  Can't  we  keep  him  out  of  his  seat?  " 

"No;   that  would  not  be  lawful." 

"  Can  we  secede  or  withdraw  lawfully?  " 

"I  think  so." 

"Peaceably?" 

"  I  fear  not. 

"  Father,  are  you  a  citizen  of  the  United 
States?" 

"  No;  I  am  a  citizen  of  Georgia  first,  and  then 
a  citizen  of  the  United  States  because  I  am  a 
Georgian." 

"If  there  should  be  a  war,  who  must  you 
obey?" 

"  My  State." 

"  Well,  I  hope  there  won't  be  a  war;  but  if  it 
comes,  I  know  who'll  whip." 

"Well,  who?" 

"  The  South;   that's  who." 

"  Don't  be  too  certain.  But  it  is  not  yet  certain 
that  we  will  be  forced  to  these  stern  measures." 

I  should  not,  however,  be  a  fair  historian  of 
these  times  if  I  led  my  5'^oung  readers  to  think  that 
the  side  which  Capt.  Lav/son  took  was  the  only 


72  THE   BOY  IN   GRAY. 

side  that  was  taken  in  the  South,  and  that  all 
Southern  people  saw  matters  as  he  did.  The 
fact  was  far  otherwise.  There  were  many  excel- 
lent people  in  the  South  who  believed,  as  nearly  all 
the  people  of  the  North,  that  a  State  had  no  right 
to  secede,  and  who  looked  upon  all  movements  in 
that  direction  as  treason.  They  were  not  lawless, 
not  even  abolitionists,  and  would  not  have  done 
injustice  to  any,  but  they  held  to  this  opinion 
most  strongly. 

Old  Dr.  Prescott,  the  pastor  of  Medway,  was  a 
Connecticut  man.  He  had  been  in  the  South 
many  years,  and  was  a  bitter  opponent  of  anti- 
slavery  men  or  abolitionists.  He  said  that  he  hon- 
estly believed  the  negro  was  better  cared  for  as  a 
slave  than  he  would  be  as  a  freeman,  and  that 
neither  the  Bible  nor  the  Constitution  of  the  Unit- 
ed States  forbade  slavery  in  some  form ;  and  he  be- 
lieved the  abolitionist  was  a  foe  to  the  negro's  best 
interest.  Like  Capt.  Lawson,  the  old  doctor  was 
a  conservative  and  voted  for  John  Bell  and  Ed- 
ward Everett.  He  came  over  to  the  Captain's  a 
few  days  after  the  announcement  of  Mr.  Lincoln's 
election,  and  naturally  the  question  of  "  What 
now?  "  came  up  for  discussion. 

"Well,  Doctor,"  said  the  Captain,  "what  is 
the  prospect?" 


DULL   BUT   IMPORTANT.  ^3 

*'  Gloomy,  sir,  gloomy." 

"Will  South  Carolina  secede?  " 

"I  think  she  will." 

"  Has  she  a  right  to  do  so?  " 

"I  think  not." 

"When  did  she  surrender  it?" 

"  When  she  accepted  the  present  Constitution." 

"Why,  is  not  that  a  compact  between  the 
States?" 

"No;  it  is  a  union  of  the  people." 

"  Well,  we  will  not  discuss   that  point;   but  if. 
she  does  secede,  can  the  other  States  force  her 
back?" 

"  I  fear  they  will  try." 

"Then  what?" 

"  Then  God  pity  my  poor  country!  "  And  the 
old  doctor's  lips  quivered  and  the  subject  was 
chanofed. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    WAR    DRUM. 

I)F  my  young  readers  wish  to  get  a  true  history  of 
how  the  war  commenced  and  of  how  it  pro- 
gressed and  of  how  it  ended,  and  will  give  a  life- 
time to  its  study,  they  may  find  the  facts  out,  but 
they  cannot  get  them  from  this  chronicle.  It  has 
only  to  do  with  what  Roger  Lawson  did  in  the 
war,  and  so  this  chronicler  can  tell  only  a  part  of 
the  story. 

The  States  seceded,  the  war  began,  troops  were 
called  for,  and  the  Liberty  Troop  offered  itself  to 
the  Governor  for  service,  and  was  accepted. 

Capt.  Lawson,  with  his  servant  boy,  young  Jack, 
and  his  son  Roger,  joined  the  troop,  which  ren- 
dezvoused at  Walthourville,  and  from  thence  went 
into  camp  to  be  drilled  for  service.  The  old 
Taylor  Creek  Camp  Ground  was  chosen  as  the 
camp  of  instruction,  and  the  tents  made  good  bar- 
racks, and  the  old  field  near  by  good  parade 
grounds.  The  month  that  was  spent  in  the  camp 
was  a  month  of  real  jollity.     Mrs.  Lawson,  Helen, 

and  Roger  came  to  remain  while  the  troops  were 
(7-i) 


THE  WAR   DRUM.  '7< 

there.  It  had  not  been  Capt.  Lawson's  intention 
to  take  Roger  with  him  to  the  army;  and  while 
Roger  was  eager  to  go,  he  was  not  wilhng  to  ask 
his  parents  to  permit  him  to  do  so,  because  he 
thought  he  ought  not  to  leave  his  mother.  But 
Mrs.  Lawson  could  not  consent  for  her  husband 
to  go  without  her  son,  and  she  insisted  that  Roger 
should  go,  which  he  did  as  his  father's  orderly. 

There  had  never  been  a  war  in  the  memory  of 
any  of  the  Liberty  County  people,  and  all  the 
soldiers  they  had  ever  seen  had  been  merely  holi- 
day soldiers.  There  were  perhaps  none.  North 
or  South,  who  realized  in  1861  what  war  meant. 
The  horses  were  fat  and  well  groomed,  the  uni- 
forms were  new  and  bright  with  their  gold  trap- 
pings. The  shrill  fife  and  drum  and  the  cavalry 
bugle  kept  the  camp  alive.  Wives  and  mothers 
and  sweethearts  came  to  the  camp  to  visit  the  sol- 
diers; the  tables  were  spread  with  abundance  of 
food,  and  in  the  balmy  air  of  the  Southern  spring 
this  life  out  of  doors  had  a  wondrous  charm.  But 
this  kind  of  soldier  life  could  not  continue  long. 
The  first  battle  of  Manassas  came  on  while  they 
were  in  camp,  and  the  Troop  was  ordered  to  ren- 
dezvous at  Atlanta,  where  it  was  to  become  a  part 
of  the  First  Battalion  of  Georgia  Cavalry  and 
elect  its  officers.     Then  the  farewells  were  sadly 


76  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

spoken,  and  the  bugle  sounded  and  the  troop  be- 
gan its  march.  When  the  battalion  was  organized 
in  Atlanta  Capt.  Lawson  was  elected  lieutenant 
colonel  commanding;  and  then  his  command  was 
ordered  to  report  at  Lynchburg,  Va.,  where  it 
would  receive  further  orders. 

The  horses  were  put  in  the  stock  cars,  and  the 
men  and  officers  in  the  freight  cars,  which  were 
provided  with  rough  seats,  and  they  were  conveyed 
by  rail  to  Lynchburg.  This  charming  city  on  the 
upper  James  was  a  delightful  place  for  a  rendez- 
vous, and  the  handsome  young  fellows  who  com- 
posed the  battalion  had  the  entree  into  the  elegant 
society  of  the  old  town.  And  for  several  weeks 
while  they  were  awaiting  orders  there  was  a  round 
of  festivities.  But  at  last  orders  came  to  march. 
Col.  Lawson  was  to  report  with  his  battalion  to 
Brig,  Gen.  Floyd,  at  Sewell  Mountains,  W.  Va. 
The  brigade  was  to  be  transported  by  rail  to 
Jackson's  River,  and  thence  march  to  Sewell. 
Roger's  own  account  of  his  first  campaign  is,  per- 
haps, as  good  as  anything  I  can  give.     It  was  in  a 

letter  to  Helen: 

Jackson's  River,  W.  Va.,  September,  1861. 

My  Dear  Helen:  Well,  we  are  here  at  last,  and  such  a  time  we 

had  to  get  here.    It  was  jolly  at  Camp  Brown,  in  Liberty  ;  but  that 

was  nothing  to  Lynchburg.     The  city  is  built  on  the  side  of  a 

steep  hill,  and  when  you  are  on  the  top  of  that  one  there  is  an- 


THE   WAR   DRUM.  77 

other  hill  yet.  I  think  that  a  hogshead  of  tobacco  would  roll 
down  a  half-mile  into  the  river  without  slopping  if  it  got  started 
on  the  hilltop.  But  such  clever  people  and  such  prettj  girls 
jou  never  saw.  The  girls  came  in  crowds  to  see  our  dress  pa- 
rades, and  we  had  all  our  best  uniforms  out,  and  were  on  our 
best  behavior,  and  we  had  a  grand  time.  But  the  order  came 
for  us  to  move  on.  The  gruff  old  quartermaster,  when  he  saw 
our  big  trunks,  told  us  that  we  had  better  store  them  there,  for 
he  would  not  try  to  get  them  over  the  mountains.  So  we  left 
all  our  dress  uniforms,  and  took  our  fatigue  suits. 

We  had  a  pleasant  enough  time  in  getting  to  Charlottesville. 
It  is  only  sixty  miles  from  Lynchburg;  but  it  took  us  all  day  to 
make  the  trip,  and  there  we  had  to  change  to  another  railroad. 
Charlottesville  is  a  quaint  old  town,  where  the  University  of 
Virginia  is  located.  We  could  see  "  Monticello,"  where  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson lived,  from  the  town;  but  we  could  not  go  out  to  it.  We 
started  early  in  the  morning  for  this  place.  I  did  not  know  till 
I  got  fairly  started  on  this  journey  how  little  I  knew  of  Vir- 
ginia. 

We  were  soon  in  the  mountains,  and  passed  through  one 
tunnel  a  mile  long.  The  scene  at  Rockfish  Gap,  just  before  we 
entered  the  tunnel,  was  the  finest  I  ever  saw.  I  cannot  describe 
it;  but  I  wish  you  could  see  it. 

Our  train  moved  very  slowly,  and  when  we  reached  Staun- 
ton, a  nice  little  city  famous  for  its  schools,  we  were  halted  for 
the  night.  We  got  out  of  the  cars,  and  kindled  some  camp  fires 
and  had  some  coffee,  and  spread  our  blankets  on  the  grass  and 
slept. 

The  next  day  we  steamed  away  again,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  we  were  in  the  wildest  country  you  ever  saw.  Moun- 
tains were  on  all  sides  of  us.  The  railway  crept  along  their 
sides,  and  when  we  reached  INIillboro  we  had  to  have  two  en- 
gines. 


7b  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

The  country  has  grown  wilder  and  wilder  ever  since  we  left 
Staunton,  and  at  last  when  we  reached  here  we  were  simjjlj  no- 
where. We  are  at  the  jumping  off  place,  jou  may  be  sure. 
There  is  nothing  here  but  scenery;  but  there  is  plenty  of  that. 
I  forgot,  there  is  not  only  scenery,  but  beef;  such  beef  I  never 
saw  before.  Great  steers,  which  must  weigh  nearly  two  thou- 
sand pounds,  are  here  by  the  hundreds.  We  are  going  to  leave 
to-morrow. 

I  am  as  well  as  I  can  be,  and  feel  as  happy  as  a  boy  can  who 
has  left  his  heart  behind  him,  for  I  must  tell  you  a  secret:  There 
Avas  a  pretty  girl  in  Lynchburg  named  Kitty  Payne,  whom  I 
used  to  go  to  see,  and  I  feel  mighty  like  a  fellow  with  a  Payne 
in  his  heart. 

Give  a  hundred  kisses  to  mamma,  and  tell  Mom  Judy  I  wish 
that  she  could  see  the  biscuits  that  Jack  makes.  It  would  make 
her  jump.  We  will  use  them  in  our  light  artillery  when  we  get 
out  of  balls.     Good-bye.  Roger. 

Jackson's  River,  although  it  seemed  a  long  way 
from  civilization,  was  after  all  over  fifty  miles  from 
the  point  they  were  aiming  at.  Gen.  Floyd  was  at 
Sewell,  and  Gen.  Rosecrans  was  in  his  front,  and 
Gen.  R.  E.  Lee  was  coming  with  the  troops  from 
Cheat  Mountain  to  brinj^  on  an  enffa^ement.  So 
there  was  but  little  time  for  waiting,  and  as  soon 
as  the  troops  were  rested  they  moved  forward  ;  but 
Roger  stopped  long  enough  at  the  next  camp  to 
write  to  Helen: 

White  Sulphur  Springs,  W.  Va.,  September,  iS6i. 
My  Dear  Helen:  We  wished  to  leave  early  in  the  morning 
for  a  long  march,  but  by  the  time  we  got  our  bascratre  wasrons. 


THE  WAR  DRUM.  79 

and  our  horses  in  proper  shape,  and  our  rations  cooked  papa 
said  that  we  could  not  make  more  tlian  ten  miles.  He  told  me 
that  he  had  dispatches  from  Gen.  Floyd  not  to  push  his  men, 
and  while  he  wasted  no  time  to  come  on  without  hurry,  so  we 
started  for  Callahan's,  where  we  were  to  camp. 

I  reckon  jou  have  heard  of  roads,  but  such  a  road  as  this 
turnpike  is  jou  never  dreamed  of.  It  has  rained,  and  rained, 
and  rained.  The  very  bottom  seems  to  have  dropped  out  of  the 
roads,  and  four  horses  can  hardly  haul  four  barrels  of  flour. 
Our  horses  go  floundering  through  mud  and  mire,  and  we  are 
spattered  with  mud  from  head  to  foot. 

Covington  is  a  pretty  little  town  at  the  base  of  the  mountains, 
■with  the  Jackson  River  winding  all  around  it;  but  we  had  no 
time  to  stop,  and  so  over  the  mountains  we  pressed  to  where 
there  is  a  gap  or  narrow  passage  between  them.  Here  there  is 
an  old  time  tavern  kept  by  an  old  Irishman  named  Callahan. 
If  vou  remember,  Porte  Crayon,  in  Harper^  told  of  this  very 
place.  We  found  a  good  camp  in  the  meadow,  and  Jack  made 
us  some  good  coffee  and  broiled  us  some  nice  beef,  and  we  had 
a  good  night's  rest. 

Some  of  the  Liberty  boys  grumble  about  these  mountains. 
You  know  some  of  them  ne\-er  saw  anything  higher  than  a 
gopher  hill  till  they  left  with  the  troop;  but  generally  they  take 
it  all  in  good  humor.  W^e  had  a  long  march  over  the  mountains 
the  next  day.  For  five  miles  we  never  saw  a  house,  and  then 
for  fifteen  miles  not  another.  One  man,  whose  name  is  Sprauls 
(or  Sprawls),  lives  out  here  by  himself.  He  makes  some  corn. 
The  boys  say  that  he  plants  it  by  shooting  the  grains  into  the 
side  of  the  mountain  with  a  rifle,  for  they  say  it  is  too  steep  to 
plant  it  any  other  way. 

V\'ell,  you  have  heard  Flora  Du  Barry  talk  about  the  White. 
It  surpasses  her  power  to  exaggerate,  and  3011  know  that  it  is 
pretty  good.     It  is   the  most  beautiful   spot  I  ever  saw.     Sur- 


8o  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

rounded  bj  mountains  on  all  sides,  with  a  great  big  hotel  and  a 
great  many  cottages,  and  a  lawn  that  must  have  been  charm- 
ingly beautiful  before  it  was  so  neglected.  Everything  is  now 
out  of  order,  and  the  hotel  and  cottages  are  used  for  hospitals. 
There  are  a  great  many  of  our  men  sick.  We  liave  measles, 
and  mumps,  and  fever;  but  I  am  thankful  that  papa  and  I 
keep  well.  I  like  the  army.  I  don't  know  how  I  will  like  it 
if  we  have  any  fighting.  Papa  has  just  got  a  dispatch  from 
Gen.  Floyd,  who  says  he  must  be  at  Meadow  Bluff  to-morrow 
night.     So  we  will  have  a  long  march,  and  must  start  early. 

Don't  forget  to  kiss  dear  old  mamma  a  hundred  times  for 
her  boy,  and  tell  Mammy  howdy. 

Gen.  Lee  was  in  charjje  of  the  Western  Vir- 
ginia  Department,  and  the  Confederacy  was  at- 
tempting the  fooHsh  task  of  holding  the  western 
part  of  Virginia  to  the  Southern  Confederacy  by 
sending  its  best  troops  and  most  accompHshed 
commanders  to  that  field.  Gen.  Lee  had  decided 
to  make  a  movement  by  which  he  hoped  to  draw 
the  wily  Rosecrans  into  a  battle.  He  had  or- 
dered Gen.  Floyd  to  the  summit  of  Little  Sewell 
Mountain,  and  he  now  moved  with  his  troops 
from  Camp  Alleghany  to  join  him.  Col.  Law- 
son's  battalion  and  a  regiment  of  Georgia  infantry 
were  ordered  to  report  to  Gen.  Floyd.  The  diffi- 
culty of  supplying  these  troops  so  far  from  the 
base  of  supplies  was  very  great,  and  horses  and 
men  had  scant  enough  fare.  The  battalion  left 
the   White  for  the  army   at   early   dawn   the    day 


THE   WAR   DRUM.  bl 

after  Roger  wrote.  They  had  no  breakfast,  and 
made  their  first  halt  at  Lewisburg.  Roger,  as 
soon  as  he  reached  Lewisburg,  wrote,  this  time  to 
his  mother: 

Lewisburg,  W.  Va.,  September  lo,  iS6i. 
My  Dear  Mother:  I  wrote  Helen  from  White  Sulphur. 
Beautiful  as  the  White  was,  we  were  glad  to  leave  there. 
What  our  horses  could  not  find  in  the  meadows  around  they 
had  to  go  without.  Poor  little  Daisy  looked  so  wan  and  I  was 
so  sorry  for  her  that  I  gave  her  the  bread  which  Jack  gave 
me  for  my  breakfast.  We  had  a  muddy  road.  We  passed  out  of 
the  valley,  and  just  between  the  mountains  acrystal  stream,  now 
full  because  of  tlie  heavy  i-ains,  was  roaring  away  on  our  left, 
and  a  high  mountain  covered  with  yew  trees  and  white  pines 
and  laurels  was  on  the  right.  There  were  no  settlements  till 
we  reached  the  Greenbrier  River.  We  crossed  on  a  bridge, 
and  then  such  a  climb  as  we  had  over  the  river  hills.  Our  bat- 
talion could  not  keep  up  any  order,  for  the  long  train  of  provi- 
sion wagons  was  before  us,  and  we  had  to  move  like  snails.  You 
maj'  imagine  we  wanted  our  breakfast  before  we  got  it,  but  after 
a  tiresome  march  we  pitched  our  camp  on  a  hill  in  the  village 
of  Lewisburg.  This  is  a  little  village,  which  seems  to  be  a 
very  nice  place.  When  we  pitched  our  camp  and  while  we 
were  getting  forage  for  our  horses  and  breakfast  for  ourselves 
we  had  a  chance  to  see  some  of  the  girls  of  the  village.  If  I 
had  not  lost  my  heart  in  Lj'nchburg,  I  think  one  of  these  Lew- 
isburg girls  would  have  captured  me.  Well,  we  had  to  wait 
here  for  our  wagon  train  till  after  dinner.  A  gentleman 
named  Montgomery  came  to  camp  and  asked  to  see  papa,  and 
told  him  that  some  of  the  men  had  been  burning  his  rails.  He 
told  papa  that  he  had  plenty  of  wood  that  was  at  the  service  of 
the  troops,  and  asked  him  to  order  the  men  to  use  that  and  not 

6 


82  THE   BOY    IN   GRAY. 

destroy  his  fences.  Papa  sent  an  orderly  quick  and  stopped 
the  men;  and  then  Mr.  Montgomery  asked  us  to  take  dinner 
with  him,  and  we  went.  He  has  such  a  nice  liome  and  such 
sweet  little  children.  He  is  a  good  Presbyterian,  too.  They 
say  the  people  in  this  western  part  of  Virginia  are  all  Union 
folks,  but  I  don't  think  they  are ;  all  thef.e  Lewisburg  people 
are  very  strong  Southerners.  Well,  we  got  away  at  last;  and 
leaving  a  few  sick  here,  we  marched  on  toward  the  Meadows. 
Gen.  Lee  came  down  to-day,  and  I  saw  him  and  his  staff.  lie 
is  a  very  elegant  soldier  with  a  gray  mustache  and  no  whiskers. 
He  had  on  a  very  plain,  neat  suit  of  blue  and  rode  a  beautiful 
white  horse  which  he  bought  here  in  Lewisburg.  Papa  came  to 
see  him,  and  he  shook  hands  with  him  very  cordially,  as  he  did 
with  me.  His  adjutant  brought  us  orders  to  remain  and  bring  up 
the  rear  guard  to-morrow.  I  am  having  a  good  time.  Don't 
be  worried  about  me.  Papa  is  quite  well.  I  will  write  to  Helen 
from  our  next  stopping  place,  which  will  be  I  don't  know  where; 
but  papa  says  Meadow  Bluff,  where  Gen.  Wise's  brigade  is. 

Roger  had  now  begun  to  know  some  of  the 
hardships  of  camp  life.  It  was  a  very  different 
thing  from  what  he  had  supposed  it  would  be.  I 
am  sure  from  my  experience  in  camp  that  the  one 
who  went  a  soldiering  to  have  a  good  time  was 
badly  cheated.  The  cavalry  went  splashing 
through  the  mud  in  the  middle  of  the  turnpike,  and 
the  infantry  walked  through  the  fields  and  wher- 
ever they  could  find  ground  dry  enough  to  walk 
on.  Rains  fell  almost  every  day,  as  if  the  heav- 
ens were  weeping  over  the  fratricidal  strife.  The 
men  were  going  they  knew  not  where,  and  every- 


THE  WAR   DRUM.  83 

thing  looked  dreary.  The  bright-hearted  Roger, 
however,  kept  up  his  spirits  and  the  spirits  of 
those  around  him;  and  wrote  cheerfully  to  his 
mother  when  the  weary  march  ended  for  a  while 
at  Little  Sewell: 

Little  Sewell,  September,  1S61. 
My  Precious  Mother:  Well,  we  are  here  at  last!  When  we 
reached  Jackson's  River  I  wrote  Helen  that  we  had  reached  the 
jumping  off  place,  but  we  have  now  jumped  clear  off.  We  are 
in  the  woods  on  a  mountain  with  not  an  inhabited  house  in — I 
don't  know  how  far.  I  did  not  know  there  was  so  wild  a  spot 
in  all  Virginia,  and  O  what  a  time  we  had  in  getting  to  it.  We 
left  everything  that  we  could  leave  in  Lewisburg,  and  began 
our  march  for  this  camp.  For  five  miles  we  had  a  beautiful 
country  to  march  through.  The  hills  were  covered  with  blue 
grass,  and  on  every  farm  were  fine  brick  residences.  The  heavy 
wagon  trains  had  worn  the  pike  into  holes  and  ruts,  and  the 
troops  have  swept  the  farms  clean  of  everything  like  fences,  and 
chickens  and  ducks  I  fear  have  fared  badly,  for  I  am  sorry  to 
say  the  average  soldier  don't  think  it  a  sin  to  steal  a  chicken ; 
and  as  Jack  had  a  little  inclination  that  way  before  he  entered 
the  army,  I  fear  he  has  not  improved.  I  am  afraid  the  chicken 
pie  he  served  to-day  for  dinner  did  not  come  from  a  bought 
fowl.  Andy  Rhodes,  one  of  papa's  men,  from  Cherokee,  said: 
"Yes  he  did  kill  the  ducks,  and  he  intended  to  kill  every 
duck  which  tried  to  bite  him."  Well,  we  had  a  great  time  sleep- 
ing out  without  tents  in  the  rain,  but  we  got  along  very  well. 
We  made  a  great  big  fire  and  stretched  a  pole  over  some  forks  and 
then  put  up  some  rails  on  that  and  covered  that  frame  with  our 
oilcloths,  and  then  Ave  laid  some  rails  close  together  and  put 
some  hay  on  them  and  then  our  blankets  on  that,  and  laid  down, 
clothes,  boots,  and  all,  and  slept  O  how  sweetly. 


$4  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

I  have  not  heard  from  you  since  I  was  at  Lynchburg.  You 
asked  me  if  I  went  to  church.  O  yes,  I  did;  and  I  went  to  the 
Methodist  Church  because — well,  you  know  Miss  Kitty  went 
there,  and  her  father  had  a  pew,  and  she  asked  me  to  go  with 
her;  but  papa  went  to  hear  Dr.  Iloge,  the  Presbyterian.  No; 
I  have  not  touched  wine  or  cards  or  whisky,  and  I  don't  intend 
to.  Dont  be  bothered  about  us  and  don't  be  scared  about  the 
battle  which  we  look  for  every  day.  If  old  "  Rosey  "  tries  to 
come  up  this  hill,  we  are  ready  for  him.  Our  cavalry  are  having 
a  right  hard  time  scouting  and  going  on  picket,  but  the  infantry 
say  the  cavalry  are  just  scaring  up  the  bears  for  them  to  fight 
while  they  get  away;  but  you  know  that  isn't  so. 

Give  Helen  and  Mammy  my  love.  And  be  sure  and  write  a 
long  letter  to  me  and  papa,  at  Lewisburg.  Direct  to  us  "  Lewis- 
burg  Army,  West  Va.,  Lawson's  Battalion,  Georgia  Cavalry," 
and  we'll  get  the  letter. 

Affectionately,  Roger. 

Col.  Lawson  added  a  P.  S.: 

Roger  has  left  his  letter  open  for  me  to  finish.  You  need 
not  fear  an  engagement.  I  saw  Gen.  Floyd  to-day,  and  we  to- 
gether saw  Gen.  Lee.  He  says  he  does  not  think  that  Rose- 
crans  is  going  to  move  on  us,  and  he  evidently  does  not  expect 
to  move  on  him;  and  I  see  all  things  are  readj'  to  go  back  to 
Camp  Alleghany.  I  am  so  glad  that  I  brought  Roger  with 
me.  He  makes  a  fine  soldier.  He  did  not  write  you  about  a 
little  incident  that  touched  me  very  much.  As  we  rode  over 
toward  Sewell  from  Meadow  Bluff  I  noticed  a  poor  infantry 
soldier  who  had  fallen  out.  He  was  completely  exhausted. 
Roger  rode  up  to  where  he  was,  and  got  off  his  horse,  and 
helped  the  poor  fellow  to  mount,  and  walked  beside  Daisy  till 
they  reached  a  house  by  the  wayside.  He  went  in  and  got  the 
people  to  take  the  poor  fellow  in.     Roger  had  walked  five  miles. 


THE   WAR   DRUM.  85 

We  are  having  rather  wet  weather;  but  don't  be  uneasy  about 

us. 

* 

Roger  wrote  to  Helen  two  days  after: 

Sewell,  September,  1861. 

Dear  Helen :  Well,  old  "  Rosej  "  is  gone.  We  woke  up  yester- 
day morning,  and  found  that  his  white  tents  were  no  longer  to 
be  seen,  and  Gen.  Floyd  ordered  papa  to  send  a  company  as  a 
scouting  party  to  see  what  had  become  of  him.  So  papa  sent 
the  troop,  and  of  course  I  went.  We  went  on  an  old  road  which 
used  to  be  here  before  the  turnpike  was  made,  and  went  'cau- 
tiously till  we  were  in  full  sight  of  the  retreating  army.  We 
could  see  them  from  the  place  where  we  stood,  and  saw  that 
they  had  left  Big  Sewell  sure  enough.  Why,  I  don't  know. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  great  army  of  them;  but  they  have 
vamoosed,  and  after  all  our  marching  and  all  the  mud,  we  did 
not  fire  a  gun  except  at  some  sheep;  but  we  did  fire  at  them, 
and  killed  them  too.  You  see  rations  run  mighty  short,  and 
somebody  told  Capt.  Rich  that  he  saw  a  flock  of  sheep;  and 
papa  asked  Gen.  Floyd  if  he  might  capture  them  and  use  them 
for  the  men.  He  told  him  yes,  but  told  him  to  be  sure  and  or- 
der his  men  not  to  shoot.  They  found  the  sheep,  and  took 
after  them  ;  but  the  sheep  were  running  too  fast  for  them,  and 
Andy  Rhodes,  the  man  the  ducks  were  about  to  bite,  could  not 
stand  it,  so  he  let  loose  with  his  navy,  and  got  a  sheep  every  fire. 

When  we  heard  the  shots  we  supposed  that  the  battle  was 
on,  and  the  men  went  to  the  breastworks;  but  no  enemy  came. 
They  sent  one  of  the  sheep  to  old  Gen.  Floyd,  and  he  forgave 
the  shooting;  for  no  one  knew  who  shot,  so  they  said,  after  the 
officer  began  to  inquire  about  it. 

We  are  still  going  westward — where,  I  don't  know;  and  no- 
body else  does  but  Gen.  Floyd.  Gen.  Lee  and  his  troops  have 
gone  back,  and  we  march  to-morrow.  Roger. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HELEN. 

]|  MUST  not  forget  Mrs.  Lawson  and  Helen. 
?  While  Roger  was  undergoing  the  hardships  of 
the  campaign  the  good  folks  at  home  were  not 
without  their  cares.  It  was  impossible  for  them 
to  go  to  Habersham,  and  it  was  not  at  all  safe  for 
them  to  stay  on  the  plantation  during  the  fall.  Capt. 
Lawson  had  been  called  away  so  suddenly  that  he 
had  been  compelled  to  leave  the  selection  of  a  sum- 
mer home  to  his  wife.  Helen  was  a  gentle  and  very 
quiet  but  a  very  decided  person,  and  she  realized 
that  her  tender  mother  was  not  able  to  cope  with  the 
trials  before  her.  She  saw  that  this  question  about 
a  home  must  be  settled.  So  she  rode  over  on  her 
pony  to  Mr.  William  Jones,  the  overseer,  to  have 
a  consultation.  He  was  at  home  on  the  veranda 
smoking  his  after  dinner  pipe  when  she  came  in. 
Putting  the  pipe  aside  and  hastily  drawing  on  his 
homespun  coat,  he  met  her  at  the  steps,  and  po- 
litely placed  a  chair  for  her,  and  waited  for  her  to 
besi;in  the  conversation. 

After  meeting  the  overseer's  wife  and  looking 
(86) 


HELEN.  87 

at  the  baby,  the  young  mistress  of  the  plantation 
seated  herself  and  began  to  open  her  plans. 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Jones,  we  must  get  away  from 
here  soon,  and  we  cannot  go  to  'Ivy  Bush'  this 
summer,  and  Fve  come  over  to  see  you  about 
what  w^e  are  to  do." 

"Well,  Miss  Helen,  I've  been  a  considerin'  of 
that  myself;  but  Fm  af eared  my  plans  won't  ex- 
actly suit  you." 

"Well,  what  are  they?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  this  war  is  gwine  to  be  a. 
short  un,  and  I  hain't  mighty  sure  which  side  is 
gwine  to  be  on  top  when  it's  over,  and  my  erpinion 
is  that  the  best  way  to  do  is  to  '  take  time  by  the 
forelock,'  as  my  dadd}^  used  to  say,  and  my  own 
idee  is  to  buy  a  piney  woods  place  away  from 
the  coast,  and  move  some  of  the  stock  and  all  of 
the  sheep  up  thar ;  and  that  will  be  a  place  whar 
Mrs.  Lawson  and  you  can  summer.  It  may  be  a 
leetle  lonesome;  but  I  think  I  can  get  a  place  in  a 
good  settlement,  and  3'ou  will  have  good  neigh- 
bors, if  they  is  plain." 

"  Mr.  Jones,  do  you  know  a  place  like  that?" 

'  "  Yes,  I  think  I  do.     Billy  McCord  had  two  lots 

up  near  John's,  jest  ajining,  and  he's  gone  to  the 

war,  and  his  wife  wants  to  go  over  to  Tattnall  to 


88  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

Stay  with  her  married  darter;  and  I  heard  that  he 
wanted  to  sell  out  and  buy  over  thar.'-' 

"  What  do  you  think  the  place  would  cost?  " 

"Well,  the  land  hain't  fust-class,  though  when 
it's  trod  and  well  worked  it  makes  good  truck;  but 
it's  a  powerful  healthy,  and  I  think  Miss  McCord 
will  sell  cheap.  I  have  heard  that  she  would  take 
$3,000  for  the  whole  thing." 

*'  Find  out,  and  let  us  know." 

"  Well,  I'll  go  up  to  John's  to-morrow,  and  see 
Miss  McCord." 

He  went  up  to  the  pine  woods,  and  the  next 
evening  after  tea  returned.  Helen  and  Mrs.  Law- 
son  had  consulted.  The  plan  of  the  overseer  was 
a  good  one,  and  they  would  adopt  it,  and  when  he 
reported  that  the  place,  with  a  comfortable  log 
house,  with  shed  rooms  and  kitchen  and  other  out- 
houses, with  one  hundred  acres  under  fence  and 
eight  hundred  in  timber,  with  twenty-five  head  of 
cattle  and  fifty  head  of  sheep,  could  be  bought  for 
$3,000  cash. 

Helen  had  never  had  any  business  transactions 
with  anybody.  If  she  wanted  money  her  father 
gave  it  to  her,  if  she  wanted  dry  goods  she  sent  an 
order  to  Rogers  &  Ellis,  and  they  were  sent,  and 
so  with  all  she  needed ;  but  now  she  must  arrange 
for  a  considerable  sum  of  money  and  take  new  re- 


HELEN.  89 

sponsibilities.  Nothing  so  develops  people  as  ne- 
cessity, and  the  necessity  was  here.  So  the  car- 
riao-e  was  ordered,  and  Helen  went  with  Mr. 
Jones  to  the  railroad,  and  thence  to  Savannah, 
where  she  saw  Mr.  Harris.  He  fully  agreed  with 
her  about  the  propriety  of  the  purchase,  and  as 
there  was  still  a  balance  of  the  money  borrowed  to 
Capt.  Lawson's  credit,  and  as  Helen's  mother  was 
authorized  to  use  it,  the  pine  woods  plantation 
was  bought,  and  the  family  had  their  summer  home 
fixed  there. 

Mr.  William  Jones,  the  overseer,  remained  at  the 
rice  plantations  the  larger  part  of  the  time,  night 
and  day.  In  the  summer  he  removed  his  family 
to  his  old  place,  near  his  brother's,  so  he  was  en- 
abled to  watch  over  both  plantations. 

Uncle  Jack  was  the  real  supervisor  of  "Pine 
Grove"  under  Helen's  direction.  The  sheep  had 
been  sheared,  and  the  wool  had  been  shipped,  as 
usual,  to  the  Roswell  Woolen  Mills  to  be  made 
into  kerseys;  but  Uncle  Jack  said:  "  Miss  Helen, 
why  for  you  no  git  some  cards,  so  dese  lazy  nig- 
gers can  card  dey  own  wool  for  to  make  dey  close, 
an'  not  send  'em  so  fur  away?  " 

**  Well,  that  is  a  good  idea.  Uncle  Jack,  and  I'll 
send  to  Savannah  for  a  box  of  wool  cards,  and 
some  for  cotton,  too." 


pO  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

So  the  cards  were  sent  for,  and  Mrs.  Jones  had 
a  half-dozen  looms  put  up,  and  the  women  taught 
how  to  spin  and  weave. 

Mrs.  Lawson  found  Helen  a  thoughtful  helper 
at  all  times,  and  although  the  girl  tenderly  loved 
her  father  and  brother  and  could  not  but  feel  their 
absence,  she  saw  that  the  best  way  to  show  her 
love  for  them  was  not  by  complaining  at  their  ab- 
sence, but  by  caring  for  the  things  in  which  they 
were  concerned. 

At  first  there  was  no  want  of  an3^thing;  but  the 
thoughtful  Helen  saw  that  with  the  ports  all  closed, 
and  with  the  unusual  demand  that  the  war  made 
for  manufactured  articles,  there  must  soon  come 
scarcity,  and  so  she  began  at  once  to  provide 
against  it.  She  agreed  with  her  manager  that  to 
live  at  home  and  buy  but  little  was  the  only  true 
course,  and  that  it  was  wise  to  get  now  such  things 
as  she  might  need  hereafter.  So  she  laid  in  full 
supplies  of  all  the  heavy  groceries  still  in  the 
markets. 

She  found  time,  in  the  midst  of  all  her  labors,  to 
give  the  mail  boy,  who  called  every  three  days  at 
"  Pine  Lodge  "  on  his  way  to  the  railway  from 
Riceboro,  something  for  those  away.  When  Roger 
was  at  Sewell  he  received  this  long  letter  from 
her: 


HELEN.  91 

"Pine  Lodge,"  September  15,  1861. 

My  Dear  Roger:  We  received  your  letter  from  Lynchburg 
just  before  you  left,  and  also  yours  from  Jackson's  River.  Since 
then  we  have  heard  nothing;  and  as  you  were  at  the  jumpino- 
off  place,  we  do  not  know  but  that  you  have  jumped. 

We  were  very  sorry  to  hear  of  your  attack  of  heart  disease. 
I  am  afraid  you  don't  really  want  to  get  the  Payne  out  of  vour 
heart.  I  can't  say  so  much  for  her.  She  has  doubtless  forgot- 
ten the  young  Georgia  cracker  by  this  time,  and  has  taken  a 
young  otKcer  under  her  pious  care. 

Well,  we  are  here.  What  do  you  think  of  my  going  into 
the  land  market.'  Papa  suggested  to  mamma  to  get  a  country 
home  at  Walthourville;  but  c\ery  house  in  the  village  was 
taken,  and  we  had  no  time  to  build.  We  could  not  go  up  the 
country,  and  so  mamma  and  I  concluded  to  come  here^  We 
found  that  we  could  buv  the  place,  but  could  not  rent  it,  and  as 
]Mr.  Jones  thought  it  would  be  a  good  trade,  and  as  Mr.  Harris 
said  that  he  could  manage  about  the  money,  we  bought  it.  We 
moved  up  over  a  month  ago.  We  did  not  care  to  getaway  from 
"  Lawson  Place  "  till  we  were  obliged  to,  and  you  know  that  it 
is  not  safe  to  remain  there  later  than  the  ist  of  August. 

I  have  got  to  be  a  regular  manager.  Old  Uncle  Jack  is  my 
factotum.  We  bought  all  of  Mrs.  McCord's  chickens,  ducks,  and 
geese,  and  I  have  become  quite  a  poultry  raider.  Then  I  have 
taken  some  lessons  in  weaving  and  spinning,  not  doing  it  my- 
self, but  learning  how  it  ought  to  be  done. 

Poor  mamma  is  doing  her  best  to  keep  up  and  be  cheerful  as 
possible,  and  I  feel  like  I  must  take  all  the  care  from  her  that  I 
can. 

You  asked  about  company.  Mr.  Jones's  daughter  Nancy 
stays  with  us.  She  is  very  neat  and  good-natured,  and  is  a 
pleasant  companion.  We  are  only  half  a  mile  from  Serg.  Jones, 
and  his  people,  or  some  of  them,  are  over  here  every  day.     We 


92  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

have  the  Methodist  Church  in  a  mile  from  us,  and  a  Sunday 
school  -which  I  attend,  and  the  Varnadoes  live  not  very  far  off, 
and  come  over  and  spend  a  day  with  us  now  and  then,  and 
sometimes  we  go  over  there.  Then  we  have  the  w-eekly  Rich- 
mond and  Savannah  papers,  and  I  am  reading  old  books  and  old 
magazines.  Write  us  every  time  you  get  a  chance,  and  tell  us 
everything. 

Affectionately  your  sister,  Helen. 

Roger's  mother  added  to  Helen's  letter. 

p.  S. — Helen  has  written  you  a  long  letter,  and  I  will  just 
add  a  line.  O  my  dear  boy,  what  a  precious  girl  she  is!  She 
knows  how  much  I  miss  you,  and  she  seems  anxious  to  take  all 
care  from  me  and  do  all  my  thinking.  She  found  no  Sunday 
school  here,  but  though  she  is  so  timid,  she  began  one,  and 
now  she  has  at  least  forty  little  children,  who  meet  her  every 
Sunday.  She  leads  the  music,  reads  the  Bible,  directs  the  school, 
and  with  the  help  of  the  old  class  leader,  Mr.  Andrews,  they 
say  she  manages  the  school  splendidly.  The  people  about 
here  like  her  so  much,  and  are  so  kind  to  us  all.  Be  a  good 
boy  as  you  have  always  been.  God  keep  you  safely.  Take 
good  care  of  my  dear  Roger. 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

GAINING    EXPERIENCE. 

The  King  of  France  with  forty  tliousand  men 
,  Marched  up  tlie  hill  and  then  marched  down  again. 

f  SUPPOSE  that  if  the  authorities  in  Montgomery 
or  Washington  had  known  what  would  have  re- 
sulted the  "  Star  of  the  West"  would  never  have 
tried  to  reach  Fort  Sumter ;  and  if  she  had,  the  Con- 
federate batter}^  on  the  island  would  never  have  fired 
on  the  old  flag ;  and  I'm  sure  that  if  the  Federal  and 
Confederate  authorities  had  been  wise  the  cam- 
paign in  Western  Virginia  would  never  have  been 
undertaken,  for  a  more  useless  and  costly  cam- 
paign on  both  sides  was  never  conducted.  The 
government  at  Richmond  believed  it  of  vital  im- 
portance that  West  Virginia  should  be  held. 
They  did  not  know  enough  of  its  geography  to 
know  that  it  would  hold  itself.  So  when  Gen. 
Lee,  who  saw  the  folly  of  any  further  advance  to- 
ward the  Ohio,  or  of  any  further  effort  to  hold 
these  wild  hills  against  an  invader  who  had  no  use 
for  them,  had  gone  back  to  Camp  Alleghany,  and 
thence  to  Richmond,  the  stout  old  Gen.  Floyd 
was  left  alone.     Who  planned  the  campaign  which 

(93) 


94  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

like  to  have  ended  at  Cotton  Hill  in  the  capture 
of  the  brigade  I  never  knew,  but  somebody  had 
some    ideas  that  did    not    materialize.     The   sup- 
plies that  were   needed    for   the   army  at   Sewell 
had  to  be  hauled  sixty  miles  over  wretched  roads, 
and  all  the  teams  which  had  been  taken  from  the 
farms  were  not  suflicient  to  bring  the  food  needed 
for  the   army.     To    march    down  the    pike  after 
Rosecrans  was  not  wise,  and  so  it  was  decided  to 
move  on  his  flank  and  get  behind  him.     I  suppose 
our  general    commanding  expected   somebody  to 
move    down   the    turnpike    on  the  enemy's   front 
while  he  crossed  the  Kanawha,  and  strike  him  in 
the  rear — a  very  good  plan  if  it  could  have  been 
carried  out.     The  army  never  knew  where  we  were 
going,  but  we  retraced  our  steps  to  Meadow  Bluff 
and  thence  to  New  River  and   over  it,  or   rather 
through  it,  we  went  into  Raleigh,  and  then  through 
Fayette  County  to  Miller's  Ferry  and  Cotton  Hill, 
and  from  there  Roger  wrote  to  Helen: 

Cotton  Hill,  Fayette  County,  Va.,  .September  i,  iS6i. 

Dear  Helen:  We  are  here  at  last.  I  thought  we  were  out  of 
the  world  when  we  got  to  Sewell,  but  now  we  are  away  on  the 
other  side.  We  struck  our  camp  at  Sewell  and  moved  back  to 
the  Meadows,  and  then  the  army  turned  toward  the  New  River. 
The  pioneers  had  gone  ahead  to  make  tiie  road  passable,  and 
we  managed  to  get  along,  but  it  was  with  great  difficulty.  Such 
a  wild  country  I  never  supposed  was  in  Virginia.     There  was  a 


GAINING   EXPERIENCE.  95 

squad  of  us  joungsters  who  concluded  to  strike  across  the 
country  bj  a  neighborhood  road  from  our  New  River  camp. 
Just  before  night  we  came  to  the  stock  farm  of  an  old  Virginia 
gentlemen.  Just  to  think  of  finding  out  here  in  these  wild  hills 
and  meadows  one  of  the  most  delightful  and  elegant  families 
you  ever  saw.  The  girls  are  highly  educated,  and  in  the  strag- 
gling house  of  a  half-dozen  single-story  rooms  was  a  fine  piano, 
and  the  first  music  except  that  of  the  fife  and  bugle  I  have  heard 
since  we  left  Lynchburg  we  had  the  night  I  was  there.  And 
what  a  nice  supper  we  had.  I  was  sorry  to  leave  them  the  next 
morning,  but  we  had  to  go.  Our  camp  was  on  the  east  side  of 
New  River,  in  a  beautiful  little  valley,  where  there  was  a  sulphur 
spring.  They  have  the  white  sulphur,  the  blue  sulphur,  the  red 
sulphur,  the  salt  sulphur,  the  black  sulphur,  and  this  is  the  green 
sulphur.  You  know  an  army  has  much  more  to  do  than  to  march 
and  fight.  There  are  roads  to  make,  provisions  to  haul,  and  the 
sick  to  provide  for,  and  just  now  we  have  our  share  of  sick  folks 
you  may  be  sure.  Where  have  all  these  soldiers  been  raised,  that 
they  have  never  had  the  measles  and  mumps  and  other  diseases 
which  every  well-bred  boy  ought  to  have  before  he  is  twelve 
years  old.''  but  right  out  here  in  the  woods,  where  there  are 
few  doctors  and  no  medicine,  to  be  getting  sick  is  too  bad. 
Our  chaplain  and  the  surgeons  have  their  hands  full.  We  had 
to  swim  the  river  on  our  horses.  In  we  went  and  over  we  went. 
Daisy  swam  beautifully.  Then  we  were  in  the  woods  sure 
enough,  and  we  are  not  out  of  them  yet.  We  passed  through 
two  small  villages  and  came  out  into  a  very  nice  settlement 
where  there  were  some  right  neat  homes,  and  before  I  knew 
where  we  were  I  found  we  were  in  a  skirmish.  The  yankees 
were  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  at  the  "  Hawk's  Nest,"  as  it 
is  called,  and  were  picketing  the  river  banks  Avhen  our  advance 
came  in  sight  of  them.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  shooting  at 
long  range  between  their  sharpshooters  and  ours.     I  fired  my 


96  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

first  gun,  but  I  don't  think  I  hit  tlie  jank,  because  I  saw  him 
run ;  and  as  I  was  Ijing  behind  a  log,  I  don't  think  I  was  in 
much  danger. 

Well,  we  are  living  high,  if  to  be  high  up  in  the  air  can  be 
called  so,  but  otherwise  our  fare  is  but  middling.  Jack  is  thor- 
oughly "  disencouraged,"  he  says.  "Dis  here  country.  Mass 
Roger,"  he  sadly  remarked  last  night,  "  nebber  was  made  for  a 
decent  man  to  lib  in.  De  idee  dat  Capt,  Roger  Lawson  should 
hab  to  eat  de  kin'  of  flour  dey  gib  us,  an'  hab  nothin'  but  black 
sorghum  sirup;  and  I  hab  to  make  him  biskuts  with  no  lard,  no 
soda,  no  buttermilk,  no  nothin'.  I  wish  dem  yanks  would  stay 
at  home  or  leave  here,  and  let  us  git  back  to  Liberty." 

Our  flour  is  made  by  grinding  wheat  in  a  corn  mill ;  and  as  it 
is  not  bolted,  it  is  not  pearly  white.  We  are  simply  watching 
the  yanks  and  waiting.  It  has  been  raining  a  great  deal,  and 
roads  are  bad;  and  as  we  are  a  hundred  miles  from  our  nearest 
railroad  station,  you  may  not  wonder  that  we  are  somewhat  anx- 
ious to  know  what  is  next.  I  hardly  think  old  "  Rosey  "  will 
try  to  cross  the  rivers  (for  we  are  in  the  bend  where  the  New 
and  Gaviley  make  the  Kanawha).  The  other  day  I  went  with 
papa  and  a  party  of  explorers  to  the  mouth  of  Loop  Creek,  on 
the  Kanawha.  This  put  us  several  miles  behind  the  yankee 
camp.  I  think  maybe  Gen.  Floyd  thinks  of  crossing  there,  but 
I  am  a  little  afraid  the  Yank's  may  cross  first  and  come  up  be- 
hind us.  You  never  saw  as  wild  a  country  as  this.  There  are 
nothing  but  hills,  hills  covered  with  grass  and  apple  trees,  with 
now  and  then  a  tobacco  field. 

I  will  write  you  soon  again.  Roger. 

The  camp  was  so  located  that  the  crossing  of 
the  New  River  by  one  detachment  and  the  cross- 
ing of  the  Kanawha  by  another  would  completely 
cut  off  the  whole  brigade  and  capture  it,  for  there 


GAINING  EXPERIENCE.  97 

was  but  one  way  of  escape,  southward  down  a 
narrow  country  road. 

When  Gen.  Floyd  found  that  neither  Gen.  Lee 
nor  any  one  else  came  down  the  pike  he  saw  that  his 
campaign  must  be  a  failure  and  was  now  reluctantly 
getting  ready  to  return  to  the  railroad,  to  be  nearer 
his  supplies. 

He  had  made  his  decision  to  do  this  none  too 
soon,  for  the  trap  he  had  set  for  the  Federals,  they 
sprang  on  him.  While  Floyd  was  anxiously  wait- 
ing for  the  move  on  Rosecrans,  "  Rosey"  moved  on 
Floyd.  Two  detachments  of  the  Federal  army 
crossed  the  river — one  the  New  River,  at  Bowyer's 
Ferry;  one  the  Kanawha,  at  Loop  Creek — and 
each  aimed  to  join  their  forces  behind  Floyd. 
They  expected  to  bag  the  game  easily,  but  the  old 
general  was  too  quick  for  them,  and  when  they 
drew  the  mouth  of  the  net  together  the  birds  had 
flown.  Roger,  however,  wrote  Helen  a  letter 
which  tells  the  story  better  than  I  can: 

Camp  Misery,  Raleigh  Co.,  Va.,  Nov.,  1862. 
My  Dear  Helen :  If  old  "  Rosey  "  had  been  a  little  quicker  in  his 
movements,  I  don't  think  you  would  have  had  a  letter  from 
this  place,  which,  as  you  see,  I  call  Camp  Misery — why,  you 
will  see  as  I  write  on.  I  must  claim,  however,  the  credit  for 
the  name,  and  I  don't  think  the  old  general  would  let  me  go 
without  a  court-martial  if  he  found  I  called  it  so  disrespectfully. 
You  know  I  told  you  that  I  was  afraid  the  ranks  would  cross 
7 


^8  THE   BOY    IN   GRAY. 

below  us,  and  so  they  did.  Late  one  afternoon  an  orderly  came 
for  papa  to  come  to  headquarters.  As  I  am  acting  as  his  or- 
derly, I  went  with  him.  The  old  general  sat  there  as  quiet  and 
as  grim  as  ever.  He  said  very  calmly  to  papa,  as  if  he  did  not 
know  anything:  "Colonel,  you  had  best  order  in  your  pickets 
and  have  your  wagons  packed.  I  have  decided  to  take  a  better 
position,  nearer  our  base  of  supplies.  See  to  it  that  all  is  done 
quietly  and  carefully."  Just  then  a  citizen  came  galloping  up, 
and  asked  for  the  general.  He  seemed  greatly  excited.  "The 
yankees  are  marching  up  the  road  from  Loop  Creek,  two 
thousand  strong,"  he  said;  "I  saw  them  cross,  and  came  in  a 
gallop  across  the  hills  to  let  you  knov>-."  The  old  general  smiled, 
a  quiet  smile,  and  said  very  kindly  and  calmly:  "All  right. 
Squire;  we  are  ready  for  them;  they  are  doing  just  what  I 
hoped  they  would  do."  Then  while  he  was  hei-e  another  citi- 
zen came  at  full  speed,  and  said:  "General,  them  yanks  has 
been  a  crossing  all  night  at  Bowyer's  Ferry,  and  are  marching 
this  way."  "That's  all  right,  Mr.  Hughes,"  said  the  general; 
"  they  will  fall  into  the  trap  that  I  have  set  for  them ;  don't  30U 
be  alarmed."  I  don't  know  that  the  old  general  told  the  truth; 
and  between  you  and  me  I  don't  think  he  did;  but  he  looked 
very  much  like  he  was  saying  what  he  thought  was  so.  Well, 
we  did  not  wait  long.  The  wagons  were  loaded,  the  pickets 
from  down  at  the  ferry  came  galloping  in,  and  the  infantry  was 
put  in  marching  condition.  We  were  to  keep  in  the  rear.  The 
tents  could  not  be  carried,  and  some  of  the  least  valuable  stores 
were  put  in  front  of  them  to  be  burned.  The  tents  were  left 
standing  and  fires  built  in  front  of  them,  and  our  battalion  was 
distributed  among  them,  so  that  it  -vould  look  as  if  the  army 
was  here  still;  and  as  soon  as  it  was  dark  the  armj-  began  its 
"advance  backward,"  as  Jack  says.  The  wagons  had  gone 
ahead,  and  the  artillery  had  taken  its  position  near  the  only  road, 
which  came  from  the  south,  to  the  pocket  in  which  we  were. 


GAINING   EXPERIENCE.  99 

After  the  infantrj-  were  off,  we  and  Col.  McCausIand's  battalion 
came  up  behind.  We  fully  expected  to  have  a  brush  with  the 
yanks  at  the  road;  but  v.e  passed  it  and  were  safe  out  of  the 
trap  by  midnight.  One  of  them,  whom  we  captured,  said  that 
Gen.  Benham  had  halted  his  troops  just  a  mile  from  this  road 
we  crossed.  Had  our  boys  known  that  the  yanks  were  only  a 
mile  from  where  they  were,  and  that  we  would  all  have  been 
captured  or  cut  to  pieces  if  we  had  remained  till  morning,  I 
think  thev  would  have  grumbled  less  at  this  all-night  march. 

Early  in  the  morning  Col.  Craghan,  who  had  charge  of  the 
Kentucky  Dragoons,  rode  by  us  down  the  Loop  Creek  road.  In 
a  little  while  we  heard  firing,  and  the  Dragoons  came  galloping 
back  without  their  leader,  who  was  killed.  They  were  followed 
by  a  troop  of  yankee  cavalry ;  but  our  men  opened  fire  on  them 
■with  their  carbines,  and  they  were  checked,  and  when  the  two 
guns  of  our  artillery  sent  their  shells  whizzing  down  the  road 
they  fell  back  to  their  infantry.  We  fully  expected  a  battle,  and 
the  army  was  in  line ;  but  strangely  enough  they  did  not  advance, 
and  we  continued  our  retreat.  The  old  general  and  his  staff 
remained  in  the  rear.  The  sick  were  in  front;  then  came  the 
■wagon  train,  and  then  the  infantry  and  light  artillery,  and  the 
cavalry  came  last. 

I  had  been  all  night  in  the  saddle.  So  when  the  army  halted 
as  it  did,  and  formed  in  line,  as  I  wrote  you,  ready  to  give  bat- 
tle, we  were  ordered  to  dismount  and  fight  on  foot.  Poor  Daisy 
had  no  breakfast,  and  poor  master  had  a  piece  of  Graham  hoe- 
cake  for  his.  We  remained  here  all  day  fasting,  and  late  in 
the  afternoon,  when  our  pickets  reported  that  Gen.  Benham  had 
gone  back  and  there  was  no  enemy  in  sight,  our  infantry  began 
its  march  again.  We  came  marching  last,  only  followed  by  the 
pioneers,  ■vvho  blocked  up  the  road  by  cutting  down  great  trees 
across  it.  At  last  we  were  ordered  into  camp.  The  wagon  train 
could  go  no  farther,  for  it  was  as  dark  as  Egypt,     We  were  at  the 


lOO  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

foot  of  an  immense  hill,  and  there  was  not  level  ground  enough 
to  spread  a  blanket.  We  went  up  the  hill — Lieut.  Bacon,  Serg. 
Jones,  papa,  and  I — and  found  a  place  to  sleep.  Jack  came  to  our 
help,  and  we  made  a  hasty  shelter.  It  was  made  of  small  sap- 
lings and  brush,  over  which  we  spread  our  oilcloths,  and  was 
so  fixed  that  one  fork  held  all  up.  I  was  so  tired  and  worn-out 
and  sleepy  that  I  could  hardly  wait  for  Jack  to  broil  some  beef 
and  make  some  coffee,  and  then  I  threw  myself  under  this  shel- 
ter on  my  blanket,  and  was  soon  asleep.  It  so  happened  that  I 
was  near  the  supporting  fork,  and  in  the  night  I  dreamed  that  a 
tree  was  falling  on  us,  and  crying  out,  "A  tree  is  falling!  a  tree 
is  falling!"  I  caught  hold  of  and  jerked  down  the  fork,  and 
the  whole  thing  fell.  They  all  scrambled  out  from  the  bushes, 
and  just  then  such  a  rain  fell  as  you  never  saw;  but  we  built  a 
huge  log  fire,  dried  our  clothes,  and  sat  by  it  till  morning. 

Such  roads!  such  roads!  I  saw  a  mudhole  so  deep  that  a 
man  on  a  horse  would  have  been  swallowed  up  in  it;  but  we 
pressed  on,  and  just  at  dark  we  reached  this  camp.  It  is  by  the 
side  of  a  wild  mountain  brook,  and  the  mountains  are  on  every 
side.  We  built  large  fires,  cooked  our  rations,  and  laid  down 
under  what  "  flys  "  we  had,  and  the  next  morning  woke  to  find 
our  blankets  and  tent  flys  covered  with  snow. 

Some  one  is  going  to  Dublin,  on  the  railroad,  to-day ;  and  as 
I  have  a  chance  to  send  you  this  letter,  I  will  wait  no  longer. 
How  long  we  are  going  to  stay  here  I  cannot  say,  but  I  heard 
Gen.  Wharton  tell  papa  that  it  was  likely  that  we  would  go  back 
to  the  railroad  at  once,  and  that  some  of  us  would  go  to  South 
Carolina  and  some  to  Kentucky.  Tell  mamma  that  we  are  all 
right,  and  that  I  liave  occn  a  great  sight  of  things  to  tell  her 
about.  Tell  old  Jack  that  young  Jack  says  if  "  Mass  Roger 
ever  gits  back  to  Libbaty  and  brings  him  back,  he  never  wants 
to  see  nothin'  higher  dan  a  Salamander  hill  agin."  He  says 
"he's  seed  mountings  nuff  to  last  him  a  lifetime."       Roger. 


GAINING  EXPERIENCE.  lOI 

The  old  general  reluctantly  gave  up  his  cher- 
ished plan.  He  would  gladly  have  wintered  in 
this  wild  section,  and  have  been  ready  to  move 
down  on  the  Kanawha  Valley,  resting  only  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  but  the  tide  was  against  him, 
and  orders  came  from  headquarters  for  Floyd's 
Brigade  to  report  to  Gen.  Buckner  at  Fort  Donel- 
son,  in  Kentucky,  and  for  Lawson's  Battalion  of 
Georgia  cavalry  to  report  to  Gen.  Drayton  at  Har- 
deeville,  S.  C.  Before  these  orders  came  the 
men  had  been  paid  off  and  they  were  anxious 
to  send  their  money  to  their  families,  and  as  they 
had  great  confidence  in  Roger  they  asked  that 
his  father  would  permit  him  to  take  this  money 
to  them.  As  Roger  was  not  needed  specially,  and 
as  Gen.  Floyd  had  no  objection  to  giving  him  ? 
furlough,  he  was  permitted  to  go  to  Georgia,  and 
he  started.  His  letter  from  Wytheville  will  tell  of 
how  narrow  an  escape  he  made  from  an  unlooked- 
for  danger: 

Wytheville,  November  15,  1861. 
Dear  Helen:  I  am  here  waiting  for  the  train  to  take  me  to 
Georgia,  and  I  will  write  you  a  line.  The  men  of  the  battalion 
were  paid  their  mone^'  at  Camp  Misery,  and  as  there  was  no 
way  to  get  it  to  their  families  but  by  hand,  they  asked  papa  if 
I  might  not  take  it  for  them.  Papa  hesitated,  for  bringing 
$5,000  so  far  among  so  many  dangers  is  not  a  pleasant  thing; 
but  they  told  him  they  could  trust  me,  and  that  their  families 
needed  the  money  and  there  was  no  other  way  to  get  it  to  them 


I02  THE    BOY   IN    GRAY. 

and  so  papa  ^vent  to  see  Gen.  Floyd  and  he  told  him  that  if  he 
thought  it  best  he  would  give  me  a  furlough,  and  so  I  got  my 
furlough.  There  was  $5,000  in  Charleston  bank  bills.  Serg. 
Jones  had  a  money  belt  which  he  loaned  me,  and  I  packed  the 
money  in  it  and  bade  good-bye  to  Camp  Misery,  and  started  out 
on  my  journey  a  few  hours  before  dark.  I  was  alone,  but  I 
joined  a  Virginia  cavalryman  who  knew  the  country,  and  we 
rode  about  sunset  some  two  or  three  miles  off  of  the  road  to  get  a 
place  to  stay  all  night.  We  found  a  good  place,  where  I  had 
the  first  square  meal  I've  had  in  a  long  time.  The  old  fellow 
had  buckwheat  cakes  and  rye  coffee,  sweetened  with  maple  su- 
gar— they  call  it  tree  sugar  up  here.  lie  had  some  beef  ribs 
stewed  and  the  nicest  butter  and  milk.  He  was  as  clever  as  he 
could  be,  and  his  old  wife  was  as  motherly  as  mamma.  I  slept 
gloriously,  and  after  a  good  breakfast  next  morning  I  rode  with 
my  friend  back  to  the  main  road.  Here  he  parted  from  me,  as 
he  was  going  back  to  camp,  and  I  rode  on  alone.  It  was  a 
pretty  dreary  ride,  the  ground  was  frozen,  the  air  was  keen,  and 
the  heavy  forests  were  covered  with  sleet  and  ice.  I  was  pull- 
ing away  when  I  heard  some  one  coming  as  fast  as  the  bad 
roads  would  permit,  when  who  should  it  be  but  Serg.  Jones  .^  He 
had  his  carbine  and  two  navy  pistols.  When  he  saw  me  he 
halloed  at  me;  and  when  he  came  up  he  said:  "Well,  my  boy, 
I  never  was  as  glad  to  see  any  one  in  my  life.  I  was  afraid  that 
I  would  never  see  you  any  more." 

"  How  now,  Sergeant.^  "  I  said.  "  Did  you  think  I'd  run  away 
with  your  money.'' " 

"  No ;  but  last  night  Carson,  from  the  Rifles,  deserted  and  took 
his  gun  with  him  and  followed  your  trail.  Where  have  you  been  ? " 

"  I  went  vvith  Corporal  Brent  to  old  Squire  Tuckweld's." 

"Well,  thank  God!  That  may  have  saved  your  life.  The 
Colonel  sent  me  posthaste  after  you,  and  said  that  I  was  to  go 
with  you  to  Princeton.     The  General  said  that  you  must  not  go 


GAINING   EXPERIENCE.  I03 

as  you  intended,  by  Pack's  Ferry  to  Dublin,  but  go  to  Prince- 
ton, and  thence  to  Wytlieville.  "  Here,  Jenkins,"  the  Sergeant 
said  to  his  attendant,  "  ride  back  to  camp  and  tell  them  that 
Roger  is  all  right." 

We  got  to  Princeton,  a  little  village  hidden  away  in  the 
mountains,  and  at  night  found  quarters  not  far  from  it,  and  then 
began  our  journey  over  the  Alleghanies  to  Wytheville.  I 
thought  that  I  had  been  in  the  mountains  before,  but  now,  as  I 
started  to  go  across  them,  I  found  what  it  meant  to  be  in  the 
wild  Alleghanies  sure  enough. 

The  Sergeant,  who  was  to  join  the  battalion  at  Dublin,  was 
with  me,  so  it  was  not  so  lonely  as  it  would  have  been  other- 
wise, and  O  the  scenery  was  so  grand!  Ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand  icicles  hung  from  the  green  pines,  and  the  sun- 
beams flashed  from  tree  to  tree,  from  mountain  top  to  mountain 
top.  We  found  comfortable  quarters  on  the  banks  of  Wolf 
Creek,  at  a  farmer's  home,  and  the  next  day  about  noon  we 
came  out  into  a  cove  in  the  mountain,  and  O  what  a  lovely 
sight  this  little  valley,  with  its  beautiful  brick  house,  was!  We 
went  to  the  gate,  and  they  cheerfully  took  us  in.  The  cove  was 
called  Crockett's  Cove,  and  old  Mr.  Crockett  lived  in  it.  He 
has  such  a  sweet  wife,  and  O  such  charming  daughters!  You 
have  no  idea  how  good  these  Virginia  farmers  and  their  families 
are.  They  were  just  as  kind  to  me  as  if  I  were  their  son,  and 
although  I  was  with  them  but  a  little  while  they  seem  as  though 
they  had  known  me  all  my  life.  You  may  know  the  Sergeant 
and  I  had  a  good  time.  We  did  not  go  on  to  Wytheville  till  the 
next  day,  and  while  I  was  Availing  for  the  train  the  Sergeant, 
leading  Daisy,  went  up  toward  Dublin,  which  is  about  forty 
miles  from  here.  Here  he  expects  to  meet  the  battalion.  I  am 
coming  home  for  a  few  days  while  the  battalion  is  getting  to 
its  new  field  at  Hardeeville,  so  you  need  not  be  surprised  to  see 
me  at  any  time.  Roger, 


CHAPTER  X. 


A   WEEK    AT    HOME. 


tOGER  was  impatient  to  get  home ;  but  al- 
though he  was  not  delayed  on  the  railroad,  he 
had  a  half-dozen  places  at  which  to  stop,  and  a 
number  of  people  to  see  before  he  could  hope  to 
reach  Savannah  ;  but  he  did  his  duty  faithfully,  and 
saw  the  money  which  had  so  nearly  cost  him  his 
life  safe  in  the  hands  of  those  to  whom  it  was  sent. 

Carson  was  last  seen  in  a  mountain  srorge  on 
New  River.  He  had  evidently  intended  to  meet 
his  unsuspecting  young  comrade,  and,  deluding 
him  with  a  plausible  tale,  when  he  had  reached  an 
obscure  spot  he  designed  to  murder  him,  secure 
the  money,  and  escape. 

At  last  all  the  parcels  except  those  intended  for 
the  members  of  the  Liberty  Troop  had  been  dis- 
posed of,  and  Roger  left  Savannah  on  the  Atlantic 
and  Gulf  road  for  Fleming.  No  one  knew  when  he 
was  coming,  and  no  one  came  to  meet  him.  As 
he  left  the  train  he  met  the  good-natured  old  agent, 
Mr.  Clark,  and  inquired  about  a  conveyance. 

"Well,   Capt.   Roger,"  he  said,  "there  hain't 
(104) 


A  WEEK  AT    HOME.  I05 

a  sign  of  a  critter  on  my  place  'ceptin'  old  Beck. 
She  is  about  thirty-five  year  old  and  is  mighty  true, 
but  she's  powerful  slow.  She'll  take  you  thar  if 
you  give  her  time,  but  I  tell  you  now  she  ain't  a 
gwine  to  be  pushed,  but  she  is  a  heap  better  than 
walkin',  and  I'll  have  her  brought  out." 

Beck  was  a  well-kept  and  very  unpretending 
mule.  Her  long  ears  hung  listlessly  down,  and 
her  head  was  bent  very  humbly  to  the  earth.  Rog- 
er mounted,  and  Beck  moved  as  she  did  in  the 
plow,  and  had  done  for  a  score  of  years,  with 
steady  step  and  slow.  Roger  urged  her  forward 
with  earnest  words,  but  she  heeded  not.  He 
struck  her  with  the  switch  which  he  had  in  his 
hand,  but  it  made  no  impression  on  her  sensibili- 
ties; and  at  last,  when  all  else  had  failed,  the  eager 
boy  struck  his  sharp  spur  in  old  Beck's  side.  She 
winced,  then  stopped,  and  turned  her  head  back 
with  a  look  of  blank  amazement,  and  then  moved 
forward,  but  she  never  changed  her  gait.  "  Well, 
old  lady,"  said  Roger,  "you  must  go  as  you 
please,  so  as  I  can't  get  you  to  go  my  gait  I'll  go 
yours."  It  was  a  weary  ride,  but  it  ended  at  last. 
It  was  nightfall  when  old  Beck  stopped  at  the  gate. 
Leaping  from  her  back,  the  boy  rushed  into  the 
house  and  threw  himself  into  his  mother's  arms. 
She  did  not  know  when  he  was  coming,  but.  she 


I06  THE    BOY   IN   GRAY. 

looked  for  him  every  hour,  and  was  watching  for 
him  when  he  came.  Helen  was  next,  and  then 
the  negroes  all  crowded  around  him.  He  had 
been  gone  but  a  few  months,  but  it  seemed  to 
those  who  loved  him  that  it  had  been  3^ears.  His 
mother's  pale  face  told  what  she  had  been  suffer- 
ing, and  Helen  was  transformed  into  a  real  matron. 
Old  Uncle  Jack,  of  course,  came  to  ask  after 
young  Jack,  his  hopeful  son.  "  Yes,  Uncle  Jack, 
said  Roger,  "Jack  has  become  quite  a  soldier.  He 
likes  soldiering,  all  but  the  marching  and  the  fight- 
ing. He  was  in  camp  one  day  and  a  yankee  bat- 
tery began  to  shell  us,  and  when  the  shell  came 
whistling  into  the  camp  I  looked  for  Jack,  but  he 
was  gone.  He  came  back  after  the  gun  quit  fir- 
ing, and  I  asked  where  he  had  been.  '  Lor', 
Mars  Roger,'  he  said,  '  dat  ting  come  right  at 
me.  It  nebber  tried  to  ketch  nobody  but  me,  and 
when  I  seed  it  a  coming  I  heard  it  sa}^,  "  Run,  nig- 
ger, run !  "  and  I  runned,  I  did.  I  ain't  afeard  of 
no  yankees,  but  I  cain't  bar  to  have  a  whole  can- 
non just  shootin'  at  me.  I  tell  you  I  cain't.'  He 
told  me  to  give  you  a  heap  of  howdy,  and  say  that 
if  he  can  get  a  furlough  he  will  come  home  Christ- 
mas." 

Roger  sat  by  his  mother's  side,  with   her   hand 
in  his,  like  a  lover.     He  would  stroke  her  hair  and 


A  WEEK  AT   HO.AIE.  IO7 

kiss  her  fair  brow  as  he  did  when  a  child.  That 
was  one  reason  I  loved  the  bo3^  He  knew  his 
mother's  worth,  and  loved  her  so  tenderly. 

John  Jones,  the  oldest  son  of  the  Sergeant,  stayed 
at  "  Pine  Lodge  "  at  night,  and  took  a  kind  of  over- 
sight of  the  place,  giving  Helen  such  help  in  di- 
recting things  as  she  needed.  As  for  managing 
the  hands.  Uncle  Jack  did  that  better  than  any 
other  one  could ;  the  only  trouble  with  him  was 
that  he  was  too  hard  on  them. 

John  was  a  devoted  Methodist.  He  had  been 
raised  in  a  family  where  they  had  prayer  night  and 
morning,  and  when  he  came  to  spend  the  night  at 
Mr.  Lawson's  he  was  not  reluctant  to  keep  up 
there  the  custom  he  had  always  followed  at  home. 
So  they  had  family  worship,  which  he  conducted. 
The  negroes  came  in;  the  Bible  was  read;  the 
hymn  was  carefully  lined  and  earnestly  sung;  and 
John  prayed,  if  not  learnedly,  yet  fervently.  After 
he  had  prayed  God  to  take  care  of  the  father  and 
the  son  in  the  arm}^,  and  now  when  the  boy  was  at 
home  again,  his  voice  faltered  as  he  thanked  God 
for  his  safe  return.  He  prayed  very  earnestly  that 
as  Roger's  life  had  been  spared  it  should  be  de- 
voted to  God's  service. 

Roger  went  over  the  next  day  to  see  the  Ser- 
geant's family,  and  to  carry  them  the  money  that 


I08  THE    BOY  IN  GRAY. 

the  Sergeant  had  sent  to  them,  as  well  as  the  let- 
ter that  he  had  written.  The  days  went  too  rap- 
idly by.  He  saw  the  families  of  the  troopers,  and 
gave  them  the  tidings  from  their  loved  ones. 

On  Sunday  at  old  Taylor's  Creek  meetinghouse 
Dr.  Farmer  was  to  preach  the  funeral  of  a  young 
Stovall,  who  was  killed  at  the  first  battle  of  Manas- 
sas. The  Doctor  was  once  a  traveling  preacher, 
then  he  located  and  studied  medicine,  and  for 
many  years  he  had  been  a  physician  and  a  plant- 
er. George  Stovall  he  had  known  from  his 
childhood.  He  had  baptized  him,  he  had  received 
him  into  the  Church,  and  when  his  body  was 
brought  home  he  had  read  the  funeral  service 
over  his  grave.  In  those  days  the  funeral  ser- 
mon was  often  preached  months  after  the  subr 
ject  was  dead.  There  was  a  great  crowd  of  peo- 
ple, and  a  great  many  of  them  were  young  peo- 
ple. The  Doctor  took  advantage  of  the  occasion 
to  preach  a  very  earnest  sermon  to  young  people. 
He  showed  them  that  religion  was  suited  to  them ; 
that  its  very  restraints  were  the  sources  of  truest 
happiness;  that  there  was  no  time  in  life  in  which 
religion  could  be  more  enjoyed  than  in  youth,  and 
at  no  time  was  piety  more  practicable.  He  warned 
them  against  the  danger  of  delay.  He  spoke  of 
young  Stovall  as  one  who  had  never  given  his  fa- 


A  WEEK  AT   HOME.  IO9 

ther's  heart  a  single  pang,  of  how  beautifully  he 
lived,  and  of  how  grandly  he  died. 

There  was  much  feeling  among  his  hearers. 
Many  came  and  gave  him  their  hand,  in  token  of 
a  determination  to  take  Jesus  as  their  Saviour,  and, 
to  his  mother's  great  joy,  among  them  was  Roger. 
The  "  Church  door"  (as  the  Methodists  call  the 
opportunity  for  candidates  to  present  themselves 
for  union  with  the  Church)  was  opened,  and  Roger 
went  forward. 

His  Presbyterian  mother  looked  on  with  a  blank 
amazement,  and  yet  her  face  was  lit  v/ith  joy. 
When  they  came  home,  she  said:  "Well,  my 
son,  I  am  so  glad  that  you  joined  the  Church.  I 
have  often  prayed  God  to  make  you  a  Christian, 
but  I  never  prayed  him  to  make  you  a  Methodist." 
Perhaps  Mrs.  Lawson  remembered  that  this  was 
somewhat  the  same  thing  Mr.  Spurgeon's  mother 
told  him. 

It  had  been  no  sudden  impulse,  for  Roger  had 
intended  to  unite  with  the  Church  and  give  his 
life  to  God's  service  for  some  time,  and  he  was  not 
willing  to  wait.  He  knew  that  the  certificate  of 
the  Methodist  Church  would  take  him  into  the 
Presbyterian,  which  he  thought  it  likely  he  would 
join  Vv'hen  he  went  back  to  Medway. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CAMPAIGNING  ON   THE   COAST. 

1^  OGER  had  been  at  home  only  a  few  days  when 
•*^^\  a  letter  from  his  father  written  from  Dublin, 
Va.,  brought  the  news  that  the  battalion  was  to  re- 
port tcr  Gen.  Drayton  at  Hardeeville,  S.  C.  He 
wrote  Roger  to  join  it  there  in  about  ten  days. 

The  days  sped  with  rapid  pace,  and  were  soon 
gone.  Roger  went  by  railway,  and  found  the  bat- 
talion in  a  temporary  camp  on  the  sand  hills  be- 
3'ond  the  Savannah  River,  where  the  little  village 
of  Hardeeville  was  located.  They  were,  however, 
to  remain  here  onh'^  a  few  days,  and  were  to  camp 
at  Bluff  ton,  fifteen  miles  below  on  the  seacoast. 

The  part  of  South  Carolina  where  their  camp 
was  located  was  the  oldest  portion  of  the  State. 
Near  the  camp  was  May  River,  on  which  the  first 
settlements  in  the  State  had  been  made  by  the 
French  three  hundred  years  before,  and  here  the 
English  settlers  had  established  themselves  perma- 
nently two  hundred  years  before. 

The  islands  on  the  coast  had  been  famous  for 

producing  the  most  beautiful  long  staple   cotton, 
(110) 


CAMPAIGNING   ON   THE   COAST.  Ill 

and  the  rice  plantations  on  the  main  were  on  all  the 
rivers  where  the  water  was  fresh.  There  had  been 
a  very  large  number  of  negroes  on  the  plantations. 
For  generations  these  people  on  the  coast  and  the 
sea  islands  had  lived  in  great  luxury.  The  sea 
gave  them  the  best  fish  and  finest  oysters.  The 
marsh  grass  and  the  wire  grass  of  the  pine  woods 
furnished  them  pasturage  for  their  cattle,  and  the 
rice  and  corn  produced  on  every  plantation  fur- 
nished them  breadstuff.  When  the  Federal  navy 
swept  down  on  Port  Royal  and  captured  it,  the 
people  along  this  coast  were  seized  with  a  panic, 
and  gathering  up  their  slaves,  and  leaving  behind 
all  their  property  which  could  not  be  moved,  they 
fled  to  the  interior  of  Georgia  and  South  Carolina. 
They  had  their  residences  in  a  few  pleasant  settle- 
ments, where  they  could  have  the  advantage  of 
churches  and  schools  and  health.  Among  the  lit- 
tle hamlets  which  served  for  a  summer  home  was 
Bluff  ton,  immediately  on  May  River.  It  was  a 
beautiful  little  village  among  the  live  oaks  and 
pines.  The  steamers  came  triweekly  to  the  wharf 
on  their  wa}^  from  Charleston  to  Savannah,  and 
thus  brought  the  planters  into  close  contact  with 
the  outer  world.  The  little  Episcopal  and  Meth- 
odist Churches  furnished  the  inhabitants  w^ith  re- 
ligious services.     Here,  in  an  easy,  quiet,  inoffen- 


112  THE    COY   IN    GRAY. 

sive  way  the  planters  lived ;  but  when  Port  Royal 
fell  they  abandoned  everything,  and  fled,  and  when 
Roger  came  to  the  camp  he  found  the  soldiers  in 
beautiful  homes,  some  furnished  still  with  good 
furniture,  which  had  been  deserted  by  their  panic- 
stricken  owners.  Libraries  of  books,  mahogany 
cliairs,  bureaus,  and  sofas  were  left  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  troops.  The  Colonel  quar- 
tered them  in  the  vacated  houses,  and  they  began 
a  season  of  camping  out  which  was  specially  de- 
lightful. 

Roger  had  now  taken  his  part  in  all  the  hard 
work  of  the  common  trooper.  How  he  engaged  his 
time,  and  some  of  his  adventures,  he  can  best  tell 

himself: 

Bluffton,  S.  C,  December,  iS6i. 

Dear  Helen:  If  our  camp  in  West  Virginia  was  Camp  Misery, 
this  ouglit  to  be  called  Camp  Paradise.  You  have  no  idea  of 
the  change.  The  rich  people  that  used  to  live  here  took  fright 
'when  Beaufort  and  Port  Royal  fell,  and  fled  to  the  upcountry. 
They  left  nearly  everything  behind  them,  and  now,  instead  of 
being  out  in  the  cold  on  the  mountains  unsheltered,  behold  me 
in  a  lady's  boudoir.  The  mahogany  bureau  stands  as  she  left 
it.  The  bedstead  and  washstand  are  both  here.  The  village 
was  a  deserted  village  sure  enough,  not  a  living  being  left  in  it 
when  we  came.  Since  then  some  fev/  have  come  back,  but  not 
to  stay. 

Bluffton  is  what  its  name  would  lead  you  to  suppose  it  was. 
It  is  a  bluff  on  the  river,  with  a  wide  stretch  of  pine  lands  back 
of  it.     How  beautiful  the  river  is  here,  and  how  beautiful  and 


CAMPAIGNING   ON  THE   COAST.  II3 

how  charming  are  the  islands  which  dot  it,  I  cannot  tell  jou. 
We  are  here  to  picket  the  coast,  and  see  that  the  janks  don't 
cross  over  and  cut  the  railroad  between  Savannah  and  Charles- 
ton. Bluffton  is  a  good  place  to  picket  from.  We  lead  the  most 
luxurious  lives.  Lieut.  Bacon  has  his  dog  and  shotgun  with  him, 
and  as  he  rides  around  to  see  after  the  posts  he  carries  his  gun, 
and  brings  back  partridges  every  daj.  Serg.  Jones  is  a  good 
fisherman,  and  such  sheephead  and  trout  as  we  do  have!  We 
have  to  di'ill  every  day — that  is,  those  who  are  not  on  picket 
duty — but  when  the  drill  is  over  we  have  nothing  to  do,  so  we 
get  out  the  boats  and  go  rowing  and  fishing.  Such  fun  we  do 
have!  The  kinds  of  fish  that  I  have  seen  and  caught  I  could 
hardly  count  The  sting  ray  is  an  awful  fellow,  with  his  diabol- 
ical look  and  long  tail  and  awful  barb,  which  he  wears"  just 
coming  out  of  his  back.  This  barb  he  sends  into  his  victim,  and 
it  holds  him  like  a  fishhook.  The  other  day  I  caught  a  shark 
two  feet  long,  and  carelessly  put  my  fingers  into  his  mouth  to 
pull  out  my  hook,  and  he  caught  me!  I  Avas  caught  for  sure; 
but  the  Sergeant  came  to  my  rescue,  and  prized  the  shark's  jaws 
open.     He  had  bitten  through  my  finger  nail. 

I  have  had  to  take  my  time  standing  picket.  There  are  four 
of  us  on  each  post;  but  it  is  awfully  lonesome  to  stand  on  the 
river  shore,  and  watch  for  two  hours  before  you  are  relieved. 
We  are  looking  for  the  gunboats  every  day,  but  they  do  not 
come. 

You  remember  when  we  were  at  Catherine's  Island  to  have 
seen  a  school  of  porpoises.  You  know  what  a  noise  they  make 
in  the  water.  As  they  come  rolling  over  and  over,  and  splash- 
ing the  water,  they  make  a  sound  like  a  boat  in  motion.  Some 
of  our  boys  are  from  the  mountains,  and  never  saw  a  gunboat 
or  a  "  porpus,"  as  Jack  calls  them.  They  were  on  picket  on 
the  bluff.  The  moon  was  half  full,  and  they  could  dimlv  see 
from    where  thej'    stood   the  river  winding  around   the  bend. 

8 


114 


THE   BOY   IN   GR.AY 


They  heard  at  midnight  a  sound  they  had  never  heard  tlic  like 
of  before,  and  they  saw  the  waters  in  motion.  Thej-  did  not 
stand  on  the  order  of  tiieir  leaving.  Firing  their  carl:)incs  at 
the  supposed  enemy,  they  mounted  their  iiorses,  and  dashed 
back  to  camp.  The  bugler  sounded  "  Saddles,"  and  we  were  in 
short  order  dashing  down  the  road  to  the  bluff.  There  were 
neither  yanks  nor  gunboats,  but  the  sea  pigs  were  haxing  a 
big  time  in  the  river. 

We  are  having  a  jolly  time,  with  enough  work  to  do  to  keep 
us  out  of  miscliief.  Our  chaplain  comes  to  the  camp  every  week 
and  spends  a  few  days  with  us.  He  has  preaching  and  prayer 
meeting  in  the  Methodist  church,  and  we  enjoy  the  services 
very  much. 

Tell  mamma  that  we  got  the  box  of  good  things,  and  we  have 
royal  dinners,  and  Jack  is  in  his  glory.  Love  to  everybody. 
Tell  Mrs.  Jones  that  the  Sergeant  messes  with  us,  and  that  he 
is  getting  to  be  real  fat. 

Affectionately',  Roger. 

Campaigning  on  the  coast  was  a  monotonous 
business.  The  videttes  went  to  the  posts  in  the 
evening  and  morning,  and  rode  back  again.  The 
troops  received  the  daily  papers  from  Charleston 
and  Savannah,  and  their  mail  every  day.  Some 
of  them  had  their  wives  to  come  to  the  camp  to 
see  them.  The  Federals  exchanged  half-playful 
shots  across  the  waters  of  the  small  bays  with  the 
videttes  on  the  other  side,  but  the  bullets  fell  harm- 
lessly in  the  water.  Roger  was  so  much  better 
acquainted  with  the  state  of  things,  however,  that  I 
will  let  him  tell  his  story ; 


CAMPAIGNING  ON   THE   COAST.  II5 

May  River,  May,  iS&i. 

My  Dear  Helen:  We  have  moved  our  camp.  If  you  will  get 
the  map  of  South  Carolina,  and  look  to  its  lowest  point  below 
Savannah,  you  will  see  the  point  where  we  are.  The  place  is 
called  Box's.  The  old  farmhouse,  which  is  a  hundred  years 
old,  has  been  vacated,  and  we  have  some  of  our  troops  housed 
in  it.  It  is  most  beautifully  located  in  a  grove  of  oaks,  and  is 
surrounded  on  every  side  by  salt  water.  At  certain  times  of 
the  tide  we  are  on  an  island.  Our  videttes  are  distributed  from 
this  point  to  all  the  country  around.  There  is  not  a  soul  near 
us  except  some  old  negroes  on  the  Drayton  and  Pope  places. 
These  old  places  interest  me  very  much.  They  are  so  old  that 
I  cannot  but  bring  up  the  pictures  of  the  wonderful  changes  which 
have  passed  over  this  section  since  they  were  settled;  and  vet, 
while  the  houses  are  old  and  the  fields  are  old,  and  the  negroes 
who  were  born  here  are  old,  there  is  very  much  of  the  country 
which  is  as  Vv-ild  as  when  the  Indians  were  here.  A  few  old 
men  hang  about  their  homes,  but  the  larger  part  of  the  inhabi- 
tants are  gone  to  the  interior.  There  is  not  a  lady  nearer  than 
Hardeeville,  which  is  twenty  miles  away.  There  used  to  be 
some  here  evidently,  for  some  dainty-looking  shoes,  which  were 
once  on  a  woman's  foot,  but  were  worn  out  long  ago,  are  lying 
around.  One  of  our  boys  got  one  the  other  day  and  made  some 
tracks  in  the  sand,  and  looked  fondly  at  them. 

You  know  that  Fort  Pulaski  has  fallen.  One  of  our  posts  is 
in  full  view  of  it,  and  by  climbing  upon  the  lower  limbs  of  a 
live  oak  I  had  a  good  sight  of  the  bombardment.  I  could  see 
a  long  trail  of  smoke  from  the  batteries  of  Gilmore  as  the  shells 
moved  on  the  effective  work.  I  could  see  the  smoke  of  our 
guns  as  they  replied,  and  could  hear  the  report  across  the  wa- 
ter. All  day  long  the  guns  were  sounding.  I  did  not  think 
that  the  fort  would  fall;  but  the  next  day  we  could  see  that  her 
guns  were  still,  and  then  we  had  the  news  of  her  surrender. 
But  I  have  written  you  a  long  letter.     Love  to  everybody. 

Yours,  Roger. 


Il6  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

The  winter  climate  in  this  part  of  Soutli  Caroli- 
na is  really  ravishing,  and  even  the  spring  and 
early  summer  are  quite  pleasant.  There  were 
quite  a  number  of  refugees  at  the  village  where 
the  railway  station  was,  and  the  fair  maidens  used 
to  visit  the  camp  occasionally,  much  to  Roger's 
enjoyment.  Sometimes  they  dined  with  the  offi- 
cers, and  sometimes  they  made  an  evening  party 
and  brightened  the  camp  with  their  merriment. 
Thus  the  summer  wore  away.  The  chaplain  had 
good  books  which  he  gave  the  men,  and  there  was 
prayer  meeting  and  preaching  every  Sunday. 
Then  there  was  the  daily  drill,  and  the  picketing, 
and  the  constant  care  of  the  horses.  The  mail 
came  every  day,  and  finally  Roger's  enjoyment 
reached  its  height  when  his  mother  and  Helen 
came  to  spend  a  month  in  the  camp.  The  enemy 
made  no  movement.  The  battles  were  joined 
around  Richmond,  and  the  seven  days'  fight  was 
over,  and  the  order  came  for  Drayton's  Bri- 
gade to  report  at  Richmond  to  Gen.  Lee,  and 
await  orders ;  and  the  most  delightful  episode  of 
the  war,  to  Roger,  ended.  Henceforth  there  was 
no  holiday  soldiering;  it  was  stern  work,  and 
much  of  it.  fc 


CHAPTER  XII. 

INFANTRY   SERVICE   IN  NORTHERN   VIRGINIA. 

^^HE  battalion  of  troops  which  was  commanded 
^  by  Col.  Lawson  was  cavalry,  but  it  was  con- 
nected with  a  battalion  of  infantry  and  a  company 
of  artillery,  and  formed  a  legion.  When  the 
troops  were  ordered  to  Virginia  it  was  decided 
that  the  infantry  should  be  raised  to  a  regiment 
and  the  legion  dissolved,  and  Col.  Lawson,  who 
was  second  in  command,  was  given  the  regiment, 
while  the  colonel  was  given  a  brigade.  Roger 
was  transferred  from  the  troop  and  made  a  ser- 
geant major.  It  was  to  report  at  Richmond  and 
await  orders.  The  colonel  of  the  regiment  was 
entitled  to  forage  for  two  horses,  and  so  Daisy 
was  taken  along. 

The  troops  were  packed  in  freight  cars  and 
transported  to  Richmond.  There  was  little  to  in- 
terest in  the  wearisome  travel  to  Richmond,  but  at 
last  the  city  was  reached,  and  the  regiment 
marched  six  miles  down  the  river  to  Chaffin's 
Bluff,  where  it  went  into  camp.     There  was  little 

to  do  in  camp,   so  Roger  was  permitted  to  go  to 

(117) 


Il8  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

the  city  every  cla3^  Richmond,  whose  fame  is 
world-wide  since  it  was  the  capital  of  the  short- 
lived Confederacy,  is  an  interesting  place  to  visit, 
and  Roger  wrote  Helen  how  it  appeared  to  him  in 
those  late  days  of  the  summer  of  1862: 

Chaffin's  Bluff  (near  Richmond),  August,  1862.  ^ 
Drar  Helen:  We  are  here  now  in  camp.  Our  camp  is  six 
miles  below  Richmond,  on  a  high  bluff  on  the  James  River. 
Drewrj's  Bluff  is  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  batter- 
ies with  heavy  guns  are  planted  in  front  of  us.  I  think  we  are 
only  here  for  a  &hort  time,  and  will  soon  be  ordered  to  the 
front.  You  know  I  am  no  longer  an  orderly,  but  the  sergeant  - 
major  of  my  regiment.  The  infantry  I  do  not  like  quite  as 
■\\  ell  as  I  do  the  cavalry,  but  we  are  not  so  continuously  in  mo- 
tion, and  as  papa  has  two  tiorses  I  have  the  full  use  of  my 
pretty  Daisy,  and  when  my  duties  do  not  keep  me  in  camp  I 
take  advantage  of  my  privileges.  I  go  to  Richmond  nearly 
every  day.  The  ride  along  the  James  is  an  interesting  one- 
some  of  the  farmhouses,  or  country  seats  rather,  are  very 
handsome.  We  pass  through  a  rather  rough  section  of  the^ 
city  called  "  Rocketts,"  and  then  through  what  was  evidently 
the  old  city,  until  Ave  reach  the  capitol  and  the  more  aristocratic 
part  of  it.  I  was  struck  by  nothing  in  Richmond  so  forcibly 
as  by  the  beautiful  statue  of  Washington,  with  the  statues  of 
the  great  men  around  the  base. 

The  city  is  full  of  soldiers.  Brigadiers  are  so  common  that 
nobody  notices  their  stars,  and  captains  and  lieutenants  are  no- 
bodies, and  as  for  a  poor  sergeant  major  he  is  out  of  sight.  I 
saw  the  President  the  other  morning  at  St.  Paul's  Church  with 
his  wife  and  his  little  son  and  daughter.  lie  is  a  very  gentle- 
manly, quiet-looking  man  who  is  a  great  deal  less  assuming 
than  Corporal  Sykes  was  when  he  got  his  new  uniform.     Mr. 


INFANTRY   SERVICE. 


119 


Benjamin,  the  Secretary  of  War,  with  his  spectacles  on  his 
nose,  is  tlie  very  picture  of  Mr.  Moses  Cohen,  whose  store  vou 
visit  in  Savannah.  I  went  in  last  Sunday  night  to  hear  Dr. 
Duncan,  the  famous  Methodist  preacher.  Mr.  Davis  goes  there 
every  Sunday  night.  Dr.  Duncan  is  a  stout,  young,  smooth- 
shaved,  dignified-looking  preacher,  and  his  style  is  very  easy- 
and  graceful.  He  is  very  populai-,  and  his  church  is  aiwavs 
crowded.  I  do  not  find  our  camp  life  a  bad  one,  though  we 
have  right  hard  fare  now.  There  is  nothing  but  hard-tack  and 
beef.  The  coffee  has  given  out,  and  we  have  to  put  up  with 
any  substitute  we  can  get.  Sometimes  we  can  get  supplies  from 
Richmond,  but  there  are  so  many  people  there  that  we  find  it 
difficult  and  very  expensive  to  get  anything  good  to  eat.  We 
are  very  unsettled,  and  I  expect  my  next  letter  will  be  from 
some  place  nearer  the  front. 

I  begin  now  to  see  what  war  is.  The  hospitals  are  filled 
with  sick  and  wounded  men.  The  country  around  here  is 
stripped  of  everything  which  makes  a  country  agreeable,  and 
there  is  nothing  talked  of  now  but  news  from  the  front. 

Affectionately,  Roger. 

A  few  days  after  this  letter  was  written  Col. 
Lawson  was  ordered  by  Gen.  Drayton  to  report 
to  the  quartermaster  in  Richmond,  who  would 
furnish  transportation  to  Gordonsville.  The  horses 
were  to  be  ridden  through  the  country,  and  Roger 
was  granted  leave  of  absence  from  the  regiment 
and  permitted  to  make  the  three  days'  journey 
through  the  country  on  horseback.  He  wrote 
Helen  when  he  reached  Gordonsville : 

GORDOXSVILLE,  AugUSt,   1S62. 

Dear  Helen:  I  arrived  here  yesterday,  after  a  most  interest- 


I20  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

ing  ride  from  Richmond  to  this  plnce,  Avhere  we  are  now  in 
camp.  The  country  around  Richmond,  after  you  leave  the 
James  River,  is  by  no  means  fertile.  I  do  not  think  it  ever 
was.  We  went  through  Hanover  County,  and  found  ourselves, 
before  night,  in  what  are  known  as  the  "  Slashes."  Papa  says 
Mr.  Clay  was  born  here,  and  was  called  the  "  mill  boy  of  the 
slaslies."  The  country  is  very  fiat  and  swampy,  and  the  homes 
are  old,  and  the  farms  worn  out;  and  when  I  know  that  Patrick 
Henry  and  Henry  Clay  were  both  born  here  I  don't  think  it 
takes  good  land  to  make  good  orators.  We  reached  a  nice, 
plain  farmliouse  in  Louisa  County  by  niglittime,  and  had  good 
quarters.  The  next  day  we  rode  through  a  poor  country,  like 
that  we  had  ridden  through,  till  near  noon,  when  we  came  into 
the  most  beautifid  section  and  saw  some  of  the  most  elegant 
farms  I  ever  saw.  AVe  rode  up  to  a  handsome  biick  house,  and 
asked  for  dinner.  We  were  Avarmly  received,  and  found  our- 
selves in  a  most  elegant  and  refined  home.  Dr.  Pendleton  was 
the  name  of  our  host,  and  he  was  a  delightful  host  you  may  be 
sure.  We  had  a  grand  dinner.  It  reallj'  looked  as  if  we  were 
expected  guests  and  elaljorate  preparations  had  been  made  for 
us.  We  found  good  places  to  stop  everywhere,  and  came,  after 
three  days  of  steady  riding,  to  our  regiment,  which  is  camped 
in  an  old  field  here.  There  are  quite  a  number  of  troops  here, 
and  they  are  evidently  e;cpected  to  go  somewhere,  but  where 
I  cannot  conjecture.  I  hope  you  are  all  ha\ing  a  good  time  at 
"Pine  Lodge."  I  am  so  glad  mamma  has  such  a  daughter  as 
you  are.  If  the  good  Lord  brings  us  safe  home  again,  we  Avill 
try  to  show  you  how  grateful  we  are.     Love  to  everybody. 

Roger. 

The  army  was  ordered  to  move  very  soon  after 
Roi^er  reached  it.  There  was  only  time  for  rest, 
and  to  bring  up  the  convalescent,  when  the  order 


INFANTRY    SERVICE.  121 

came  to  cook  three  days'  rations  and  be  ready  to 

move  at  a  moment's  warning.     Tlie   seven  days' 

fight  had  been  over  for  near  two  months,  and  the 

Confederates,  though    much   weakened    by   their 

losses,  were  now  recruited  and  ready  for  another 

campaign.     The  Federals  were  now  trying  to  reach 

Richmond   by  Fredericksburg,   and  were  on  the 

east  side  of  the  Rappahannock.     Jackson  had  been 

moving  on  the  enemy  in  the  Valley,  and  had  cleared 

it  of  his  opponents,  and   now  it  w^as  evident  that 

the  Confederate  army  was  changing  front  so  as  to 

meet  Burnside  on  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock. 

The  army  is  always  in  profound  ignorance  of  what 

is   designed,   and   at   night,  the   day   after  Roger 

reached  Gordonsville,  it  was  put  in  motion  to  go 

it  knew  not  w^here.     Roger  wrote  Helen   of  this 

all-night  march  as  soon  as  the  army  made  a  little 

halt,  which  it   did   near  a  small  place  called  Ste- 

vensburg,  where   the  army  stopped  for  a  day  or 

two: 

Stevensburg,  Va.,  August  5,  1862. 

My  Dear  Helen:  We  have  had  a  long  march  and  have  just 
gone  into  camp  here,  not  far  from  the  Rappahannock,  and 
Avhile  we  are  resting  I  will  write  jou  a  line. 

We  began  our  march  from  Gordonsville  in  the  afternoon, 
and  marched  through  as  poor  a  country  as  vou  ever  saw.  The 
march  was  all  night  long,  and  just  at  sunrise  we  reached  the 
Rapidan  River.  There  was  no  bridge,  so  I  wondered  how  the 
soldiers  were  going  to  cross  the  ri\er  when  they  reached  it.     I 


122  THE    BOY   IN   GRAY. 

saw  them  plunge  in,  clothes  and  all,  and  come  out  dripping  on 
the  otlier  side.  They  continued  the  march,  wet  as  they  were, 
and  just  as  we  reached  the  road  which  came  down  the  other 
side  of  the  river  Gen.  Jackson  came  marching  by  to  take  posi- 
tion on  the  heights  below  us.  We  were  now  in  the  forks  of  the 
Rapidan  and  Rappahannock,  and  went  into  camp  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  day. 

We  were  thoroughly  tired,  and  rested  all  day,  waiting  for 
Burnside  to  cros^^  the  river  and  attack  us. 

The  next  morning  I  went  out  sauntering  near  the  camp,  and 
seeing  a  poor-looking  house  by  the  wayside,  I  went  in.  The 
family  in  it  were  the  fussiest  people  I  ever  saw.  The  old  man 
was  fussv,  his  wife  was  fussy,  and  liis  daughters  were  fussy, 
and  they  were  at  their  best  that  morning.  Some  soldier  had^ 
stolen  the  old  man's  horse,  and  the  lamentation  ^vas  loud  and 
long  over  the  loss  of  his  last  "critter,"  as  he  called  it.  I  told 
him  he  had  better  go  at  once  to  tlie  general,  the  man  who  had 
the  three  stars  on  his  collar,  and  tell  him  about  it.  He  had  just 
.gone  in  hot  haste,  when  one  of  the  girls  of  the  fainih'  came  up 
and  said:  "O  mam,  they  ha\e  hung  a  man  down  thar  by  the 
spring."  Sure  enough,  there  was  a  poor  fello^v,  in  a  new  Con- 
federate uniform,  hanging  by  the  neck  dead.  He  was  a  spy,  and 
had  been  caught  with  evidence  that  he  was  not  only  a  spy,  but 
that  he  had  murdered  an  orderly,  and  the  general  sentenced 
him  to  be  hung  at  once. 

The  Fedei-als  were  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  we 
expected  them  to  cross  over  and  attack  us  every  hour;  but  they 
went  back  to  Fredericksburg, and  are  trying  to  reach  Richmond 
again  by  way  of  Alexandria  and  Manassas.  When  Gen.  Lee 
found  that  they  were  making  that  move  he  ordered  us  to  march. 
W^e  are  here  merely  to  rest  a  little  while,  and  then  1  think  we 
will  move  on  toward  Manassas. 

Later  — La;t  night  the  order  came  for  the  men  to  be  ready 


INFANTRY   SERVICE.  1 23 

to  move  at  da3light,  and  at  daylight  the  whole  brigade  was  in 
column  in  the  road  and  marched  on  toward  the  rixer.  We 
filed  out  into  a  grove  of  large  trees  and  formed  a  line  of  battle. 
The  skirmishers  were  sent  to  the  river  bank,  and  directly  we 
heard  the  rattle  of  their  rifles,  and  then  our  cannon  opened  and 
the  Federal  battery  replied.  The  firing  was  brisk,  and  the 
shells  swept  through  the  woods,  over  our  heads,  and  tore  down 
great  branches  from  the  trees,  and  now  and  then  cut  a  trunk  in 
two  and  fell  in  our  midst. 

I  tell  you,  Helen,  there  was  no  fun  in  lying  there  and  taking  a 
shelling.  Now  and  then  we  heard  a  groan,  and  knew  that  some 
one  was  wounded.  Our  chaplain  was  called  to  see  one  of  our 
soldiers  whose  leg  had  been  torn  off  by  a  shell.  The  poor  fel- 
low said  he  was  "going  to  heaven,"  and  asked  the  chaplain  to 
pray  for  him,  and  he  knelt  there  where  the  shells  were  flying 
and  asked  God  to  bless  the  dying  man. 

We  expected  every  moment  for  the  _^ankee  infantry  to  be 
on  us;  but  they  made  no  move,  and  after  an  artillery  duel  of 
about  two  hours  the  firing  ceased  and  we  went  back  to  camp 
and  rested  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

At  this  camp  I  made  my  first  effort  at  cooking  for  myself, 
and  succeeded  only  tolerably.  I  made  a  dough  of  the  fiour  by 
mixing  it  with  water  in  an  old  tin  pan  wliich  belonged  to  one 
of  the  soldiers,  and,  as  I  had  no  frying  pan  nor  oven,  I  dug  a 
pit  like  a  barbecue  pit  and  laid  some  green  sticks  across  that, 
and  my  dough  on  the  frame,  and  then  stuck  mv  bacon  on  a 
hickory  stick  and  held  it  to  the  fire.  As  the  grease  oozed  out 
I  held  it  over  the  bread,  and  so  accomplished  several  ends. 

I  don't  like  war.  I  don't  \\ant  to  hurt  the  yanks,  and  I  don't 
want  them  to  hurt  me.  I  am  sorry  for  the  poor  people  along 
the  march  whose  fences  are  burned  and  whose  stock  is  all 
killed.  Our  own  army  does  almost  as  much  harm  to  those 
on  the  line  of  march  as  th3  enemys.     War  is   more  wasteful 


124  ^^^^'   ^'-'^^  ^^   GRAY. 

and  fearful  than  you  can  conceive  of;  but  we  are  in  it,  and  we 
must  get  out.  Roger. 

P.  S. — Dear  Mamma:  Don't  be  uneasy.  God  has  taken  good 
care  of  papa  and  me,  and  I  hope  we  will  both  get  back.  Pray 
for  us. 

Your  loving  Roger. 

The  little  artillery  duel  was  merely  a  feint. 
Gen.  Pope  was  massing  his  troops  for  a  decisive 
battle  at  Manassas,  and  Gen.  Lee  was  getting 
ready  to  meet  him.  The  armies  zigzagged  through 
Culpeper,  Prince  William,  and  Fauquier,  until  at 
last  they  reached  Bull  Run  again,  where  the  second 
battle  of  Manassas  was  fought. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  write  a  history  of  the 
war,  nor  even  of  the  campaigns  in  which  Roger 
had  a  part,  but  merely  to  give  a  young  fellow's 
adventures  as  he  tells  them  himself.  If  my  young 
readers  want  an  authentic  history  of  this  cam.paign, 
they  must  search  many  books  of  war  records  to 
find  it;  and  then  if  they  find  it  as  it  really  was,  they 
will  be  more  fortunate  than  I  have  ever  been.  I 
am  sure  the  best  intentions  of  an  historian  are  not 
certain  to  lead  him  to  a  correct  account  of  events 
when  the  relation  of  them  comes  from  so  many 
people  who  had  different  points  of  view,  but  I  am 
sure  Roger's  story  is  just  as  correct  as  it  claims  to 
be.  He  wrote  to  "  Pine  Lodge"  every  opportunity, 
but  he  had  no  time  for  wrilinjr  from  the  tmie  he  left 


INFANTRY   SERVICE.  1 25 

Stevensburg  till  Monday,  after  the  second  battle 
of  Manassas,  and  then  he  wrote  to  Helen  and  his 
mother: 

Manassas,  August,  1S62. 

Dear  Helen :  I  haxe  not  ■written  jou  for  near  two  -weeks. 
We  have  been  incessantly  on  the  march,  and  I  can  only  snatch 
the  time  while  we  are  bivouacking  here  to  try  and  catch  up.  I 
■wrote  you  last  from  near  a  little  village  called  Stevensburg. 
The  next  day  after  I  wrote  we  were  ordered  to  march.  You 
know  a  soldier  goes  by  faith.  lie  has  to  obey.  He  ne\'er  knows 
Avhere  he  is  going.  lie  does  not  even  see  his  commander.  The 
adjutant  of  the  regiment  gives  me  my  orders,  and  I  give  them 
to  the  captains,  and  they  give  them  to  the  orderlies,  and  we  do 
what  -we're  told  to  do,  and  that's  the  end  of  it. 

ISIarching  on  foot  and  riding  are  very  different  things,  and 
while  I  might  ride  now  and  then,  I  prefer  to  share  with  the 
men,  and  so  I  tramp  along  as  they  do.  Poor  fellows,  many  of 
them  are  barefooted,  and  it  hurts  me  to  see  that  they  sometimes 
leave  bloody  prints  on  the  ground  as  they  walk;  but  they  are 
the  merriest  crowd  you  ever  saw.  They  have  names  for  the 
soldiers  from  each  of  the  different  States,  The  Georgia  troops 
are  called  "Goober  Grabbers;"  the  North  Carolina,  "Tar 
Heels;"  the  South  Carolina,  "  Sand  Lappers;"  the  Arkansas, 
"Travelers;"  the  Florida,  "Crackers,"  etc.  If  they  see  a  fellow 
with  a  new  hat,  they  yell  at  him:  "Come  out  of  that  hat." 
They  make  fun  of  everything  but  religion,  I  never  saw  one, 
however  bad  he  was,  who  wovdd  not  treat  his  chaplain  re- 
spectfully. They  will  divide  all  thej'  have  with  you,  but  I  am 
sorry  to  say  they  are  not  remarkable  for  their  honesty.  One 
fellow  stole  my  oilcloth  the  other  day,  and  while  our  chaplain 
was  praying  with  his  eyes  shut  one  of  the  reprobates  stole  his 
blanket. 

We  trudge  along  sometimes  very  slowly  behind  our  wagon 


120  THE   BOY   IN    GRAY. 

trains,  and  of  all  wcaiisome  things  it  is  to  march  bcl.ind  a  hun- 
dred loaded  wagons.  Sometimes  we  take  short  cuts  across  the 
fields.  The  other  day  we  were  mo\  ing  along  across  a  field  in 
which  there  was  a  small  clump  of  woods.  The  Eleventh  South 
Carolina  had  just  reached  the  woods,  A\hen  I  saw  tlie  first  com- 
pany break  in  wild  confusion,  and  with  a  jell  they  made  haste 
and  delayed  not.  They  ran  a  little  v/ay,  and  then  some  of  them 
fell  down  and  rolled  oyer  in  the  grass.  The  second  company 
followed  suit,  and  so  did  the  third.  "  Hornets!  hornets!  "  yelled 
the  crowd,  and  our  regiment  made  a  detour  rapidly  and  gave 
the  spiteful  fellows  abundant  room. 

You  must  know  this  constant  tramping  grows  wearisome, 
especially  when  you  don't  know  where  you  are  going.  Some 
parts  of  the  country  are  very  fertile,  but  the  country  generally 
is  quite  worn.  We  began  to  get  near  the  mountains,  and  reached 
the  railroad  at  a  gap  called  Thoroughfare.  Here  I  saw  Gen. 
Lee  for  the  first  time  during  this  campaign.  You  know  I  saw 
him  first  last  year  at  Sewell  Mountain,  and  then  afterwards  in 
South  Carolina;  but  he  has  changed  very  much  in  looks  since 
he  has  turned  out  his  beard,  and  has  a  much  older  look  and 
seems  to  be  a  stouter  man  than  he  was.  He  was  very  kind  and 
courteous  to  every  one,  acknowledging  my  salute  with  a  pleas- 
ant smile. 

We  were  placed  in  a  railroad  cut  at  Thoroughfare  Gap,  and 
had  to  take  another  shelling.  The  enemy's  battery,  however, 
could  not  reach  us,  and  their  shells  exploded  on  the  hills  be- 
yond us.  The  only  disaster  to  me  was  a  piece  of  spent  shell 
which  fell  right  on  my  heart  and  which  I  picked  up  and  put  in 
my  pocket.  I  gave  it  to  a  lady  who  li\'ed  in  a  farmhouse  near 
by,  and  who  kindly  had  given  me  my  supper.  Papa  bears  up 
ver}'  bravely  and  cheerfully.  He  is  a  great  favorite  with  his 
men,  and  is  especially  kind  to  them. 

There  Avas  a  right  sharp  little  skirmish  near  the  Gap,  but  it 


INFANTRY   SERVICE.  1 27 

did  not  amount  to  a  great  deal.  The  yanks  soorl  saw  that 
thej  could  not  get  through  the  Gap,  and  they  drew  off  toward 
Grovetown. 

I  do  not  think  in  all  our  marching  we  have  ever  had  such  a 
day  as  the  day  we  left  Thoroughfare.  It  looked  as  if  man  and 
beast  would  perish  for  water.  There  were  no  brooks,  no  rivers, 
no  springs,  and  the  wells  Avere  drawn  dry;  but  about  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  we  came  to  a  spring,  if  such  it  might  be  called, 
in  an  old  field.  We  had  not  been  out  of  hearing  of  cannons  for 
two  weeks,  and  were  used  to  it,  and  the  fact  that  the  yankee  ar- 
tillery was  blazing  away  at  us  did  not  at  all  disturb  us.  We 
were,  however,  arranged  on  the  field  by  companies,  and  were 
preparing  to  fill  our  empty  canteens  when  we  heard  the  shriek 
of  a  shell  as  it  fell  right  in  our  midst  and  exploded,  leaving  two 
men  dead  and  two  wounded.  We  soon  saw  that  we  were  in  range 
of  a  masked  battei-y,  and  leaving  our  wounded  men  to  the  care 
of  the  surgeons  and  chaplain  and  ambulance  corps,  we  left  there 
in  quick  time.  Recklessness  and  courage  are,  the  soldiers  say, 
different  things,  and  the  man  who  would  foolishly  expose  him- 
self, or  the  general  who  would  foolishly  expose  his  brigade,  are 
at  as  great  a  discount  as  cowards.  We  were  sorry  to  leave  our 
poor  wounded  men,  but  we  were  almost  in  rifie  shot  of  the  enemy. 

All  that  afternoon  we  could  hear  the  yells  of  Jackson's  men 
on  our  left  and  the  huzzas  of  the  Aanks.  \\'ho  was  the  victor.' 
This  was  the  question.  At  last  the  dark  came,  and  with  it  the 
news  that  old  Jack  was  on  top  still.  We  lay  on  our  arms  all 
night,  forbidden  to  speak  above  a  whisper,  and  with  the  dawn- 
ing the  guns  opened  again.  We  were  in  Longstreet's  Corps, 
and  were  on  the  extreme  right  wing.  We  lay  in  an  old  field, 
just  out  of  range  of  the  shells;  and  while  we  could  not  see,  v,-e 
could  hear  the  roar  of  the  guns,  the  yells  and  huzzas  of  the  sol- 
diers, and  see  the  white  smoke  of  the  cannon.  I  climbed  up  on 
top  of  an  old  house  near  our  regiment,  and  with  papa's  glass  I 


128  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

had  a  good  view  of  the  fignt.  Gen.  Lee  and  his  staff  \vere  on 
a  high  hill  to  our  left,  where  they  could  see  the  entire  field. 
Away  off  to  the  left  was  Jackson's  Corps.  It  was  a  long  way 
from  us,  but  I  could  see  where  it  was  posted,  in  a  cut  of  the 
railroad  just  deep  enough  to  give  good  protection.  When  I 
looked  the  battle  was  getting  pretty  hot,  and  I  could  see  the 
line  of  Federals  coming  out  of  the  wood  and  moving  on  Jack- 
son. Then  the  smoke  from  the  rifles  and  the  smoke  from  the 
cannon  covered  the  field.  When  it  blew  away  1  saw  that  the 
blue  line  was  broken  and  was  retreating;  but  those  brave  yanks 
came  again  and  again,  and  then  our  infantry  seemed  to  me  to 
cease  firing,  and  the  Federals  swept  on  the  works  apparently 
unresisted.  But  just  then  two  battalions  of  artillery  came  dash- 
ing at  a  full  gallop  up  to  the  railway  cut  behind  the  silent  in- 
fantry, and  before  I  could  tell  you  they  had  unlimbered,  and 
the  guns  poured  out  volleys  of  shot  and  shell.  I  saw  Gen. 
Longstreet  just  before  this  dash  away  from  Gen.  Lee  at  a  full 
gallop,  and  at  the  head  of  an  Alabama  brigade,  followed  by  the 
division,  he  dashed  on  the  center  of  the  Federals,  and  their  left 
and  center  both  gave  way.  I  then  saw  the  aid  come  galloping 
toward  us  and  the  long  roll  sounded. 

I  was  on  the  ground  in  a  moment  and  at  my  place,  and  Ave 
were  double-quicked  to  the  field  of  battle;  but  when  we  were 
almost  on  the  field  the  order  came  to  "Halt!  right  about  face, 
forward  double-cjuick,"  and  we  came  back  to  the  jicld  -I'c  left. 
Somebody  blundered.  Gen.  Dra^yton  heard  that  the  enemy 
were  enfilading  us  and  brought  us  back  to  find  the  enemy,  and 
lo!  they  -vcre  a  company  of  our  own  troops.  W^e  could  not  now 
move  rapidly,  for  we  were  completely  done  up,  so  we  quietly 
marched  back  to  the  field  again  and  moved  steadily,  but  not  on 
a  run,  up  the  hill  to  the  extreme  left  of  the  Federals.  The 
general  of  the  division  rode  by  us  and  told  us  to  give  the  sol- 
diers in  front  a  cheer,  and  wc  did. 


INFANTRY   SERVICE.  I  29 

To  hear  the  whistle  of  the  balls  as  thej  swept  by  vou  was 
not  as  fearful  as  the  shriek  of  the  shells,  but  more  dangerous. 
As  papa  rode  into  the  fields  poor  Whitej  got  a  ball  through  the 
neck  and  fell,  but  with  his  sword  in  hand  his  rider  pushed  for- 
ward on  foot. 

It  was  to  me  strangely  dark.  I  could  not  think  it  was  night- 
fall, but  it  was,  and  just  as  we  entered  the  wood  from  which  we 
were  to  move  on  the  battery  which  we  were  to  silence  it  be- 
came so  dark  that  we  could  not  see,  and  then  came  the  com- 
mand to  halt.  We  were  so  nigh  the  yanks  that  we  could  hear 
them  talk,  but  we  could  not  see  ahead  of  us.  The  general 
thought  if  we  attempted  an  advance  we  would  fire  into  each 
other,  and  so  we  came  out  of  the  battle  without  firing  a  gun. 

Several  of  our  men  were  wounded,  but  none  were  killed. 
Poor  old  Whitey  is  right  badly  hurt,  but  he  may  get  well. 
Papa  telegraphed  mamma,  to  P'leming,  and  telegraphed  Mr. 
Clark  to  send  you  the  telegram.  I  will  write  again  as  soon  as 
I  get  a  moment  to  spare,  but  I  must  write  to  mamma  now. 

Roger. 

Roger  to  his  mother: 

Manassas,  August,  1862. 

My  Dear  Mamma:  My  letter  to  Helen  will  tell  you  all  about 
our  doings  for  the  last  two  weeks,  and  I  only  write  toyou  to  tell 
you  how  much  I  love  you,  and  how  glad  I  am  that  God  took 
such  care  of  papa  in  the  battle  day  before  j'esterday.  I  did  not 
relish  the  battle;  but  I  was  not  so  much  afraid  for  myself  as  for 
him,  and  when  I  saw  poor  Whitey  reel  as  the  bullet  struck  him 
I  was  scared  almost  to  death;  but  papa  leaped  from  his  back, 
and  with  his  sword  waving  he  urged  the  boys  on  as  if  nothing 
had  occurred. 

I  am  so  glad  that  you  taught  me  to  pray.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  that,  I  am  afraid  that  I  should  not  have  escaped  the  dangers 
of  camp  life,  and  all  the  day  of  the  great  battle  I  found  my  heart 


130  •         THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

rising  to  God  in  praj-cr.  I  am  so  glad  tliat  wc  won  the  victory; 
but  as  I  went  o\er  tlie  field  yesterday,  I  was  so  sorry  for  the 
suffering  of  our  own  folks  and  of  the  poor  yanks  that  I  could  not 
rejoice  in  the  victory  won.  The  Federals  sent  a  flag  of  truce, 
and  Gen.  Lee  gave  them  full  permission  to  go  over  the  field  and 
gather  up  the  wounded.  I  did  what  I  could.  With  some  of  the 
other  boys,  we  searched  for  those  who  were  most  in  need  of 
help,  and  filled  their  canteens  with  water,  and  fixed  them  as 
comfortably  as  we  could,  and  tried  to  cheer  them.  Our  own 
wounded  were  gathered  into  the  farmhouses  all  about,  and 
many  of  them  put  in  ambulances  and  sent  to  Warrenton. 

I  hate  war.  I  expect  to  be  a  true  soldier,  and  to  fight  as  well 
as  I  can ;  but  I  hate  war. 

The  good  Lord  bless  you  all!  Papa  cannot  write;  he  is  too 
busy,  for  he  is  now  in  command  of  the  brigade.  He  tells  me  to 
write,  and  sends  a  heartful  of  love.  Roger. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THINGS    IN    LIBERTY. 

WHILE  Roger  and  his  father  were  at  the  front 
Mrs.  Lawson  and  Helen  were  having  no  easy 
time  at  "Pine  Lodge."  The  earnest  efforts  of 
Mr.  William  Jones,  the  overseer,  who  was  past  the 
age  of  conscription,  had  not  relieved  them  entirely 
from  anxiety.  The  chief  care  was  the  father  and 
son,  and  then  how  to  provide  for  all  their  slaves 
and  of  all  their  interest  was  indeed  a  trying  ques- 
tion. The  coast  was  so  exposed  that  it  was  certain 
that  the  negroes  would  be  forced  away  from  the 
plantation,  if  they  did  not  wish  to  leave,  and  it  was 
as  certain  that  many  of  them  would  run  away  to 
the  yankees  as  soon  as  they  could  get  a  chance. 
The  cattle  and  stock,  with  all  the  horses  and  mules, 
would  fall  a  prey  to  the  marauders  who  could  land 
on  the  coast. 

So  it  was  decided  to  move  all  that  could  be 
moved  up  to  "  Pine  Lodge,"  and  abandon  for  the 
time  being  the  two  plantations  on  Medway.  There 
were  houses  to  build,  fields  to  open,  and  immediate 

needs  to  be  supplied.     There  v/as  a  full  crop  of 

(131) 


132  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

rice  made  in  1S61,  and  the  large  crop  of  potatoes 
and  corn  which  Mr.  Jones  had  made  at  "Pine 
Lodge  ;"  but  it  was  necessary  to  live  very  closely. 
It  was  a  struggle  for  subsistence.  There  was  no 
money  but  Confederate  money,  and  its  purchasing 
power  was  not  great. 

Capt.  Lawson  had  an  investment  in  the  stock  of 
the  Rosevelt  Cotton  Factory,  and  received  divi- 
dends in  cotton  thread  and  in  cloth;  and  this, 
with  the  busy  hands  of  the  spinners  and  weavers, 
supplied  the  negroes  with  clothes.  Sugar  cane, 
peanuts,  upland  rice,  potatoes,  and  peas  were 
planted,  and  while  the  negroes  missed  their  patches 
and  had  to  submit  to  privations  which  were  not  at 
all  agreeable  to  them,  and  while  some  of  them  ran 
away  from  the  farm,  the  most  of  them  remained, 
and  very  faithfully  aided  their  mistress  in  her  ex- 
ertions. 

Helen's  letters  to  Roger  will  tell  of  how  grandly 
the  brave  girl  bore  herself  under  it  all: 

"Pine  Lodge,"  August,  1862. 
]\ry  Dear  Roger:  Yours    from    Stevensburg   just    received. 
Verily  you  are  having  a  time.     I  hardly  know  where  to  catch 
you;  but  it  may  be  that  this  will  reach  you,  as  it  is  sent  by  one 
of  the  Troop  who  has  been  at  home  on  a  furlough. 

Well,  we  are  doing  very  well.  After  the  fall  of  Fort  Pulaski 
last  April,  we  saw  that  our  removal  from  the  coast  could  not  be 
long  delayed,  and  so  Mr.  Jones  sent  up  twenty  of  the  men,  and 


THINGS    IN   LIBERTY.  1 33 

they  went  to  work  to  build  the  cabins.  Happily  father  had  bought 
a  small  sawmill  outfit,  and  Mr.  Jones  had  it  moved  up  here. 
We  needed  to  clear  a  great  deal  of  land  to  put  at  once  in  peas 
for  the  people,  and  so  we  cleared  the  land  and  got  timber  for 
the  mill  at  the  same  time.  We  soon  had  the  cabins  ready,  and 
Avhile  there  was  a  rest  time  we  began  to  move  everything  but 
the  growing  rice  to  this  place.  We  are  now  all  pretty  well 
moved,  and  until  harvest  we  will  be  easy.  We  expect  to  send 
down  a  set  of  hands  then  to  get  in  the  rice;  but  their  families 
will  remain  here. 

We  are  quite  comfortable.  I  am  wearing  my  old  clothes.  I 
made  my  first  hat  out  of  palmetto  the  other  day.  We  make  our 
sugar,  as  you  know,  and  we  get  from  the  Rosevelt  Mill  a  few 
bales  of  cotton  yarn  every  month,  which  not  only  supplies  our 
wants,  but  which  we  can  trade  for  bacon  and  other  supplies.  We 
have  about  used  up  our  coffee,  except  a  little  that  we  keep  for 
the  preacher  and  for  sick  folks;  but  we  get  along  pretty  well  on 
potato  coffee  and  ground  pea  chocolate. 

Don't  you  be  worried  about  us.  I  have  a  beautiful  suit  of 
gray  jeans  just  out  of  the  loom  for  papa,  and  one  for  you,  and 
you  ought  to  see  me  in  my  brand  new  homespun.  If  you  men 
will  do  your  duty  at  the  front,  we  will  do  ours  at  home. 

I  still  keep  up  my  Sunday  school,  and  enjoy  my  work  very 
much.  I  believe  God  will  take  care  of  you  both,  and  I  am  try- 
ing to  do  what  I  know  he  wills  for  me  to  do  at  hoine.  Mamma 
keeps  as  well  as  could  be  expected,  but  this  constant  anxiety 
presses  her  much. 

God  bless  you,  my  dear,  brave  brother !  I  love  you  more  than 
I  can  tell.     Love  to  dear  papa.  Helen. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

^  MARYLAND  !    MY    MARYLAND  ! 

^i^HE  stunning  defeat  of  the  Federal  army  only 
-''  seemed  to  inspire  the  determined  North  with 
a  sterner  resolution  to  conquer  at  all  costs,  and 
slowly  and  stubbornly  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
fell  back  to  Washington.  I  doubt  if  the  capture 
of  Washington  was  ever  seriously  contemplated 
by  the  Confederates.  The  fact  was,  the  South 
knew  she  could  not  conquer  the  North;  she  was 
only  trying  to  keep  the  North  from  conquering 
her.  Whether  she  was  mistaken  or  not,  as  she 
surely  was,  the  South  believed  that  she  was  fight- 
ing for  life,  and  she  was  determined  no  hostile 
foot  should  remain  on  her  soil;  and  when  Gen. 
Pope  did  not  go  back  fast  enough  Gen.  Lee 
pressed  after  him  and  drove  him  to  the  banks  of 
the  Potomac.  We  fought  our  last  battle  in  this 
compaign  in  Virginia  in  sight  of  the  church  spires 
of  Alexandria — the  battle  of  Chantilty — and  then 
began  a  movement  on  Maryland.  Moving  up  the 
Potomac,  we  crossed  in  Loudon  beyond  Leesburg, 

and  took  our  first  rest  at  Frederick,  in  Maryland. 
(134) 


MARYLAND!    MY  MARYLAND  !  1 35 

Roger's  letter  to  Helen  gives  us  a  full  account  of 
this  march. 

Frederick,  Md.,  September,  1862. 
My  Dear  Helen:  We  remained  at  the  camp  at  Manassas  only 
a  Aay  after  I  wrote,  and  then  began  our  maixh  up  the  Potomac, 
We  came  into  Loudon  County,  a  beautiful  fertile  country,  in 
strange  contrast  with  the  desolate  land  we  had  left  behind. 
We  found  in  Loudon  the  most  delightful  people,  who  gave  us 
genuine  coffee,  rich  cream,  golden  butter,  nice  hams,  and 
the  other  evidences  of  civilization.  We  were,  however,  on  the 
move  all  the  time.  The  other  night  in  our  march  we  had  some 
real  fun.  Our  chaplain,  who  is  my  great  friend,  is  a  young 
man  full  of  life  and  activity.  He  bought  a  horse  of  uncertain 
age,  after  the  battle  of  Manassas,  whom  he  called  "  Old  Rip." 
He  made  a  pair  of  saddle  pockets  out  of  his  knapsack,  and 
stuffed  a  few  clothes  in  them.  He  is  always  foraging  for  the 
rest  of  us.  The  other  day  he  turned  aside  from  the  line  of 
march  and  found  where  he  could  buy  a  chicken  and  some  Irish 
potatoes.  He  prepared  the  chicken  for  the  frying  pan,  and 
fried  it  himself  as  nicely  as  an  inexperienced  chaplain  could, 
boiled  the  praties,  and  put  the  provisions  in  his  haversack 
for  papa  and  the  others  of  our  mess.  When  he  reached  us  we 
were  crossing  Goose  Creek.  There  was  a  temporary  bridge 
over  it  for  the  infantry,  but  the  horsemen  had  to  foi-d.  The 
ford  was  rough  and  rocky,  and  the  horses  plunged  a  good  deal, 
but  in  went  the  daring  chaplain.  About  the  time  he  reached 
the  deepest  part  Old  Rip  stepped  on  a  stone  and  lost  his  footing 
and  fell  over  on  his  side,  and  the  poor  chaplain  went  under 
head  and  ears.  His  knapsack  saddlebags  were  soaked,  and 
he  was  simply  saturated.  As  he  came  out  of  the  water  John 
Baker  in  all  sincerity  called  out:  "  Parson,  are  you  wet.'"  The 
chaplain  told  him  he  thought  so.    There  happened  to  be  a  fire 


136  THli   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

near  by,  and  he  dried  his  dainn  garments  and  went  on  his  way. 
When  we  got  to  the  Potomac  I  noticed  that  he  waded  across 
like  the  rest  of  us  and  let  another  man  ride  Old  Rip. 

When  we  had  crossed  the  Potomac  we  were  in  Maryland. 
The  Mary  landers,  like  the  Virginians,  are  very  warm  in  their 
Southern  sympathies,  and  treated  us  very  kindly.  The  Sun- 
day bells  were  ringing  when  we  pitched  our  camp  in  sight  of 
the  good  old  city  of  Frederick.  Here  we  are  to  stay  some  days. 
I  don't  think  Gen.  Pope,  wliose  headquarters  are  in  the  saddle, 
will  be  after  us  till  he  gets  over  the  drubbing  we  gave  him  in 
Virginia.  These  Frederick  people  are  mightily  mixed:  some 
of  them  very  ardent  Southerners,  and  some  of  them  as  ardent 
Unionists.  I  was  really  sorry  for  an  old  fellow  who  sold  out 
his  wliole  hardware  stock  for  Confederate  money,  which  cer- 
tainly can't  do  him  any  good  in  buying  a  new  supply  of  mer- 
chandise. I  went  to  church  Sunday  afternoon;  but  the  preach- 
er was  evidently  scared  at  so  many  soldiers,  for  he  did  not 
j)reach.  I  found  some  very  kind  people  here,  and  was  very 
glad  that  nobody.  Unionist  or  rebel,  was  molested  by  our  peo- 
ple, but  all  was  quiet  and  orderly. 

I  will  write  again  as  soon  as  I  can.  Roger. 

The  army  moved  on  from  Frederick;  but  much 
to  Roger's  after  surprise,  there  were  ninety  thou- 
sand Federals  just  behind  it.  The  next  letter  of 
Roger's  was  some  two  weeks  afterwards,  and  was 

from  Virginia: 

Warrenton,  Va.,  September  20,  1862. 
My  Dear  Sister:  Papa  has  telegraphed  to  you  that  I  was 
wounded  at  South  Mountain,  but  that  I  was  not  at  all  in  any 
danger,  and  I  hope  your  anxiety  is  at  an  end.  We  left  Fred- 
erick and  marched  through  a  beautiful  country  and  made  our 
grand  entric  into  Hagerstown,  four  miles  from  the  Pennsylvania 


Maryland!  my  Maryland!      137 

line.  We  had  no  idea  there  -were  any  yanks  nearer  than 
Washington  Citj  except  a  few  cavalrymen  who  were  skirmishing 
all  the  time  with  our  boys;  but  we  had  scarcely  got  rested  from 
our  march  before  the  command  to  march  came,  and  we  went 
down  the  same  road  we  came  up.  As  ^ve  marched  we  could 
hear  the  constant  rattle  of  musketry  and  the  boom  of  guns. 
We'reached  the  foot  of  the  South  ISIountain  and  saw  Gen.  Lee 
and  Gen.  Longstreet  and  Gen.  Jones  all  together,  and  we 
marched  on  and  took  our  place  at  the  top  of  the  mountain  be- 
hind a  stone  wall.  The  cannons  were  shooting  over  our  heads 
at  some  advancing  Federals,  v.hom  we  could  not  see.  At 
length  we  were  ordered  forward,  and  as  we  crossed  another 
stone  fence  and  went  into  a  wood,  the  bullets  whizzed  about  us 
very  sharply  and  one  struck  me  on  the  neck^  but  just  scratched 
me.  We  were  firing  as  rapidly  as  we  could  at  the  enemy  in  our 
front,  when  I  saw  a  man  running  to  papa,  Avho  was  command- 
ing the  regiment,  and  I  saw  him  look  around  in  alarm.  We 
were  enfiladed,  and  the  enemy  was  just  about  to  surround  us 
entirely.  Papa  gave  the  order  to  retire,  and  we  did  so  not  a 
moment  too  soon,  for  they  were  nearly  all  around  us.  We  en- 
tered the  wood  we  had  left,  and  were  preparing  to  rally  on  the 
stone  wall,  when  I  felt  a  deadness  in  my  left  leg  and  fell  to  the 
ground.  I  thought  my  leg  was  torn  off,  but  I  looked  and  saw 
it  was  there  still.  Some  of  the  boys  put  me  on  a  stretcher  and 
then  in  an  ambulance.  Poor  papa  came  to  me  and  saw  how  I 
was  hurt,  and  said:  "All  right,  boy,  keep  a  brave  heart.  You 
shall  have  a  furlough  now."  Well,  I  suffered  a  little,  but  not 
as  much  as  many.  The  surgeon  bandaged  my  leg  as  best  he 
could  and  sent  me  in  an  ambulance  with  sevei-al  others  to  the 
hospital  here.  I  can't  walk  nor  use  a  crutch  yet,  but  I  am  get- 
ting along  very  well  indeed.  Miss  Berta  Phillips,  a  nice  young 
lady,  is  going  to  take  me  to  her  home  as  soon  as  the  doctor  w  ill 
let  me  go.     I  know  there  has  been  a  battle  at  Sharpsburg  since 


138  THE   BOY    IN   GRAY. 

I  left  the  army,  and  I  hope  dear  papa  has  come  out  safely.     I 
know  you  has^e  all  heard  ere  this. 

Give  a  great  deal  of  love  to  everybody. 

Affectionately,  Roger. 

The  battle  of  Sharpsburg  was  fought  on  Wednes- 
day after  the  battle  of  South  Mountain  on  Sunday. 
Col.  Lawson  led  his  regiment  so  gallantly  that  he 
was  promoted  to  a  brigadier  general,  and  yet  es- 
caped without  a  serious  wound. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"yank"  and  "johnny"  in  the  same  hospital. 

W^fHlLE  Roger  was  in  the  hospital  at  Warren- 
"  ton  a  young  Federal  officer,  who  had  been 
wounded  in  a  cavalry  fight  at  Brandy,  and  left  in 
our  lines,  was  brought  to  it.  He  had  his  elbow 
bone  shivered  by  a  pistol  shot,  and  as  the  bullet 
plowed  its  way  through  the  muscles  of  his  arm 
it  lacerated  them  badly,  and  made  a  very  ugly 
wound.  He  and  Roger  soon  became  good  friends. 
They  were  the  same  age,  and  had  many  experi- 
ences in  common. 

The  young  Federal  was  the  son  of  a  former  Con- 
gressman from  Connecticut,  a  Judge  Bingham. 
In  spite  of  his  wound  he  was  uniformly  cheerful. 
But  one  morning  when  the  surgeon  looked  at  his 
wound  his  face  grew  serious.  He  saw  a  little 
speck  of  green  which  told  of  the  deadly  gangrene. 
The  boy  must  be  removed  from  the  hospital,  or 
death  would  likely  come  into  it.  He  told  Roger 
this,  and  Roger  set  to  work  to  save  his  companion. 

Miss  Berta  Phillips  was  to  come  for  him  that  morn- 

(139) 


140  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

ing;  but  he  resolved  that  he  would  not  go,  or 
Bingham  should  go  with  him. 

Miss  Berta's  bright  face  came  beaming  to  the 
door:   "  I  want  my  soldier  boy." 

"  But  I  am  not  going." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  want  you  to  take  somebody  else.  I 
am  doing  as  well  as  I  can  do ;  but  there  is  a  little 
3^ank  here  who  will  die  if  somebody  don't  take 
him  out  from  this  place,  and  you  must  take  him." 

"  Me  take  a  yankee?     No,  sir!  " 

"Yes  you  will.  You  just  see  him,  and  you'll 
take  him." 

"  Well,  I  won't  see  him." 

"  Yes  you  will." 

"  But  I  won't." 

"Yes  you  will.  Just  listen:  lie  has  a  good, 
sweet  mother,  and  a  pretty  sister,  and  a  good  old 
father,  and  they  are  Presbyterians  like  you  are, 
and  he'll  die  if  he  don't  get  away." 

"Well,  can't  I  take  you  too?" 

"Yes,  I  reckon  so;  but  you  must  take  him  if 
you  do." 

"  Well,  I  won't;   but  you  may." 

So  Lieut.  Bingham  went  with  Roger  to  the  de- 
lightful home  of  the  Phillips  family,  where  the 
comforts    of    life    and    tender   watching   of   kind 


IN  THE   HOSPITAL. 


141 


friends  soon  expelled  the  poison  from  his  veins. 
But  Roger  must  tell  about  the  mieetin«-: 

Phillips  House,  Warkenton,  Va.,  October,  1S61. 

Dear  Helen :  I  am  now  in  the  sweetest  old  home  in  Virginia, 
the  old  Phillips  mansion.  Miss  Berta  came  for  me  and  brought 
me  here,  and  with  me  brought  inj  friend,  and  who  do  vou 
reckon  that  friend  is?  A  Connecticut  jankee,  a  Federal  lieu- 
tenant. Poor  fellow!  he  got  a  terrible  wound  in  his  arm,  and 
will  never  use  it  well  again.  He  fell  into  our  hands,  and  is  a 
prisoner.  He  is  a  jolly,  clever  fellow,  and  as  he  and  I  were  in 
the  same  ward  in  the  hospital,  we  became  good  friends.  He 
calls  me  -Johnny,"  and  I  call  him  "Yank."  He  can  only  use 
one  hand,  and  I  can  only  vise  one  leg.  So  he  helps  me  and  I 
help  him.  He  showed  me  his  mother's  picture,  and  his  sister's 
too.  His  father  used  to  be  in  Congress  with  Mr.  Stephens,  and 
has  been  a  judge  in  his  State.  I  think  that  they  are  rich  people, 
and  from  what  he  says  I  am  sure  that  they  are  very  refined. 

I  am  so  glad  that  dear  papa  escaped,  and  I  hear  that  he  is 
recommended  for  a  brigadier  general's  commission.  I  know 
that  he  deserves  it,  and  I  am  sure  that  he  will  get  it. 

I  am  going  to  get  a  furlough  soon,  and  if  I  can  I  am  goin-^ 
to  bring  "  Yank"  with  me.  Roger. 

Sure  enough  Roger  got  his  furlough ,  and  through 
Mr.  Stephens's  influence  Lieut.  Bingham  got  a  pa- 
role. He  was  permitted  to  go  to  Liberty  County, 
in  Georgia,  and  remain  there  till  he  was  exchanged. 
I  am  glad  to  tell  of  this,  for  young  folks  are  apt  to 
think  that  where  there  is  hard  fighting  there  must 
be  personal  hate;  but  they  are  much  mistaken. 
The  Federals  and  Confederates  never  hated  each 


142  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

Other,  and  the  soldiers  of  either  side  were  always 
willing  to  help  each  other,  and  no  people  were  more 
rejoiced  when  the  war  ended  than  those  who 
fought  it  through.  But  I  have  some  letters  of  the 
lieutenant's,  in  which  he  tells  the  story  for  him- 
self: 

"Pine  Lodge,"  Liberty  Co.,  Ga.,  October,  1S62. 
Hon.  John  H.  Bingham,  Binghamton,  Conu. 

My  Honored  Fatho- :  You  have  heard  from  me  before  doubt- 
less, as  I  sent  my  letter  through  the  lines  just  after  I  was  caji- 
tured.  I  am  now  at  Gen.  Lawson's,  in  Liberty  County,  Ga.,  on 
parole.  As  soon  as  I  can  be  exchanged  I  will  come  home.  I  re- 
ceived the  £20  bill  of  exchange  before  I  left,  and  cashed  it,  and 
so  am  supplied  with  funds.  Thank  you.  With  love  to  all  and 
high  respect,  I  am 

Yours,  John  H.  Bingham,  Jr. 

To  his  sister: 

"  Pine  Lodge,"  Liberty  County,  Ga.,  November,  1S62. 

My  Dear  Clara:  Such  a  series  of  adventures  as  I  have  had. 
It  would  be  a  real  novel  if  it  was  written  out.  You  see  at  Bran- 
dy, as  we  were  making  a  charge,  a  Confed  for  whom  I  was 
going  with  my  saber  sent  a  pistol  bullet  through  my  bridle  arm. 
My  horse  got  away  with  me,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  battalion  of  Confederate  cavalry.  Of  course 
I  surrendered,  and  they  were  verj-  kind  to  me.  The  surgeon 
bound  up  my  wound  and  put  me  in  the  ambulance  and  sent  me 
to  Warrenton  to  the  hospital.  In  the  same  ward  with  me  was 
a  young  rebel.  He  is  about  my  age  and  is  as  jolly  as  he  can  be. 
He  and  I  struck  up  quite  a  friendship. 

"  Well,  Yank,"  he  said,  "  let's  be  partners.  You've  got  no 
arm,  and  I  have  got  no  leg.  You  walk  for  me,  and  I'll  cut  for 
you." 


IN   THE   HOSPITAL.  I43 

"Agreed,"  I  said,  "Johnny,  we'll  shake  on  that,  only  I  can't 
shake  much  now;"  and  so  we  "affiliated,"  as  old  Dr.  Stiles  used 
to  say. 

Well,  we  just  told  all  about  things  at  home.  He  has  a  smart 
sister,  he  says,  and  a  good  mother,  and  so  have  I.  I  like  to 
have  had  to  pass  in  my  checks,  for  I  was  threatened  with  hospital 
gangrene,  but  Johnnie  got  me  out  of  the  hospital  into  a  nice 
home,  and  Mr.  Stephens  got  me  a  parole  from  the  war  ofiice,  so 
I  did  not  have  to  go  to  Libby.  And  then  Johnny  said  I  must 
come  home  with  him,  and  I  got  a  permit  to  do  it,  and  I  am  here. 

You  never  saw  anything  like  this  delightful  pine  woods 
home.  It  is  delightful  now  in  November.  The  sky  is  so  blue, 
the  air  is  so  balmy,  and  the  woods  are  filled  with  flowers.  I 
counted  twenty-five  different  kinds  yesterday.  The  family  are 
Mrs.  Lawson,  a  sweet  lady  about  mother's  age,  and  ISIiss  Helen, 
who  is  older  than  you.  I  tell  you  she's  a  team.  Talk  about 
you  yankee  girls,  she  can  beat  you  so  far  you  can't  see.  There 
are  two  hundred  and  fifty  negroes  here  to  be  fed  and  clothed 
and  managed,  and  she  is  the  head  of  all.  True,  she  has  an  ex- 
cellent manager  and  a  faithful  driver,  but  after  all  she  is  queen. 
I  don't  think  she  likes  me  much,  because  I  am  a  yankee  sol- 
dier, but  I  can't  blame  her  for  that.  She  treats  me  very  kindly 
despite  that.  I  hear  I  am  to  be  exchanged  next  week,  and  I 
will  come  to  Binghamton  in  a  hurry. 

Your  brother  John  II.,  Jr. 

Roger's  letter  to  his  father  tells  how  things  were 
at  "Pine  Lodge:" 

"  Pine  Lodge,"  November,  1S62. 

My  Dear  Papa:  Jack  came  to  us  in  good  time.     I  am  sorry 

he  had  to  leave  you,  but  I  do  not  know  how  we  could  have  done 

without  him.     Yank  and  I  left  Warrenton  a  Aveek  ago.     His 

arm  was  still  pretty  bad,  but  the  doctor  thought  that  it  was  best 


144 


THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 


for  him  to  get  to  a  milder  climate,  and  he  said  I  would  be  better 
off  also. 

The  Phillipses  were  very  kind  to  the  last,  and  they  furnished 
us  with  a  good  supply  of  nice  things  for  our  luncheons  along 
the  way.  We  came  by  Richmond.  We  had  to  change  cars 
quite  often ;  but  Jack  almost  carried  me  in  his  arms,  and  without 
serious  delay  we  reached  Fleming.  Helen  had  come  to  meet 
us,  and  she  looked  radiant  in  her  new  homespun  and  with  her 
palmetto  hat.  She  looked  a  little  askance  at  poor  Yank,  but  he 
was  so  pleasant  he  soon  made  a  good  friend  of  her.  We  came 
in  good  time  to  "  Pine  Lodge,"  and  found  mother  waiting  for 
us.  Old  Jack  met  us  and  T>Iamm3-  came  as  fast  as  the  poor 
old  soul  could,  and  Yank's  eyes  opened  when  she  threw  her 
arms  around  me  and  cried  like  a  baby. 

I  was  not  hurt  by  the  trip  at  all,  and  have  been  improving 
every  day.  So  has  Yank.  He  had  a  letter  from  his  father 
through  the  lines,  sent  through  commissioners  for  the  exchange 
of  prisoners,  inclosing  him  a  £20  Bank  of  England  note,  which 
he  turned  into  Confederate  money  at  Richmond,  so  his  wants 
were  supplied.  He  is  very  much  interested  and  pleased  with 
what  he  sees.  He  is  a  nice  fellow,  and  while  I  can't  make  him 
see  that  we  are  right,  and  don't  try  very  hard,  he  sees  in  how 
many  things  he  has  been  mistaught.  The  negroes,  especially 
the  little  fellows  in  the  quarters,  keep  him  continually  amused. 
I  will  be  sorry  when  he  goes,  as  he  says  he  must  next  Avcek.  He 
is  to  report  at  Savannah  and  be  exchanged  at  Port  Royal. 

Things  are  going  about  as  Avell  as  we  could  hope  for.  Mr. 
Jones  has  managed  admirably.  He  has  moved  all  the  negro 
families  from  Medway  and  "  Lawson  Place,"  and  keeps  there 
only  a  gang  of  hands  who  are  harvesting  the  rice.  We  made  a 
pretty  good  crop,  which  Mr.  Harris  writes  us  is  already  sold  to 
the  government.  We  are  having  it  shipped  as  fast  as  it  can  be 
brought  to  Fleming. 


IN  THE    HOSPITAL.  I45 

Mamma  is  quite  well,  as  3011  see  from  her  letter.  I  am  get- 
ting along  only  middling.  The  bone  which  was  broken  was 
splintered  a  little,  and  the  wound  does  not  heal  rapidly.  I  can 
only  get  about  with  my  crutches  I  am  very  thankful  that  it 
it  is  as  well  with  me  though,  you  may  be  sure.  I  am  glad  to 
hear  you  have  the  three  stars  and  are  now  a  general.  I  hope 
you  will  give  me  a  place  on  your  staff. 

Ever  affectionately,  Roger. 

The  winter  came,  and  the  battle  of  Fredericks- 
burg was  fought,  but  Roger  could  not  get  back  to 
the  army  in  time  to  engage  in  it.  He,  however, 
continued  to  improve,  and  in  February  he  was  en- 
abled to  report  for  duty,  and  received  this  pleas- 
ant communication  from  the  war  office: 

War  Office. 

Serg.  Maj.  Lawson,  of  the  Seventy-fifth  Regiment,  Georgia 
troops,  is  hereby  promoted  for  gallantry  on  the  field,  and  is  com- 
missioned as  Second  Lieut.,  C.  S.  A.  He  will  report  for  duty 
to  Brig.  Gen,  Lawson,  Jones's  Division,  Longstreet's  Corps,  A. 
N.  V.  A.  R.  Tape,  A.  A.  A.  G. 

SPECIAL  ORDER  NO.  75O. 

Lieut.  Roger  Lawson  is  hereby  assigned  for  staff  duty  on  the 
staff  of  Brig.  Gen.  Lawson,  Army  Northern  Virginia. 

A.  R.  Tape,  A.  A.  A.  G. 

So  he  returned  to  the  army  and  began  his  work 

in  the  early  spring. 
10 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   ARMY  AGAIN WINTER   QUARTERS. 

^^HE  flowers  were  blooming  when  Roger  left 
^  "  Pine  Lodge  "  for  Virginia;  the  snow  was  on 
the  ground  when  he  reached  the  camp  at  Guineas 
Station.  There  was  no  fighting,  save  a  little  skir- 
mishing now  and  then.  The  attention  of  the  enemy- 
was  turned  to  Vicksburg  and  the  western  army,  and 
Gen.  Lee  was  having  a  little  rest. 

Roger  found  himself  in  a  new  position,  and  was 
able  to  write  home  very  often.  Some  of  his  letters 
give  a  picture  of  a  camp  in  winter  quarters.  They 
had  pitched  their  camp  in  a  wood,  where  they  could 
get  shelter  and  fuel,  and  whiled  away  the  time  as 
profitably  and  as  pleasantly  as  they  could.  The 
victory  at  Marye  Heights,  near  Fredericksburg,  in 
December  had  been  purchased  at  no  small  cost 
of  men,  and  the  new  recruits  who  came  in  were  be- 
ing drilled  as  diligently  as  possible  to  take  the  places 
of  the  missing.  Save  to  keep  everything  in  trim  for 
the  movements  in  the  spring,  neither  Federals  nor 

Confederates  were  doing  much.    The  officers  who 
(146) 


WINTER   QUARTERS.  I47 

could  be  spared  were  on  furlough,  and  Gen.  Law- 
son  had  gone  to  Liberty  for  a  two  weeks'  stay. 
Roger  wrote  them  all  in  writing  to  Helen: 

Camp  Lee,  January,  1863. 

My  Dear  Helen:  I  knew  that  I  ought  not  to  stay  at  home  any 
longer,  but  it  was  a  great  trial  for  me  to  leave  you  all.  I  had 
spent  so  many  pleasant  hours  at  "  Pine  Lodge  "  that  it  was  hard 
for  me  to  tear  myself  away. 

The  more  I  see  of  war,  the  more  I  hate  it.  When  will  peo- 
ple learn  to  settle  their  difiiculties  like  Christians.?  As  we  are 
in  it,  we  must  go  through  with  it,  and  I  must  try  and  do  my 
duty. 

I  reached  here  safely,  just  stopping  long  enough  in  Rich- 
mond to  order  me  a  lieutenant's  dress  uniform,  which  only  cost 
me  a  thousand  dollars.  I  don't  expect  to  use  it  a  great  deal.  I 
reported  at  headquarters.  Our  brigade  headquarters  are  in  an 
old  house  overlooking  the  wood  where  the  brigade  is  camped. 
It  is  comfortable  enough  for  old  soldiers,  as  we  are  getting  to 
be.  Our  fare  is  not  the  most  elegant;  but  Jack  is  not  a  bad 
forager,  and  we  get  along  pretty  Avell.  The  troops  are  busy 
di-illing  and  attending  carefully  to  camp  routine.  We  have  our 
dress  parades  every  evening,  and  sometimes  our  camp  is  enliv- 
ened by  the  faces  of  the  wives  of  some  of  the  officers  of  the  Vir- 
ginia soldiers.  All  kinds  of  fun  is  kept  agoing.  We  have  games 
of  ball  and  racing,  and  music  of  all  kinds,  from  the  old  time  fiddle 
to  the  modern  band.  Vv''henever  we  have  a  snow  there  is  a  regu- 
lar snow  battle.  The  troops  are  drawn  up  in  regular  line.  They 
establish  batteries,  put  out  skirmishers,  and  have  regular  fusil- 
lades. The  victors  roll  the  conquered  in  the  snow.  But  the  thing 
that  I  most  enjoy  is  the  revival.  We  have  preaching  every  night. 
Some  of  the  best  men  of  all  the  Churches  preach  for  us.  We 
have  a  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  and  I  joined  it  as  soon  as  I  returned.     We 


148  TKE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

have  regular  camp  meeting  times.  Mr.  Lester,  the  Chaplain  of 
the  Third  Georgia;  Mr.  Jarrell,  of  the  Eighteenth  Georgia;  Mr. 
Dodge  and  Mr.  Thigpen,  of  Colquitt's  Brigade,  are  some  of  our 
Methodist  chaplains;  and  Messrs.  Curry  and  MacCallum  are 
Baptists.  Bishop  Pierce  came  to  see  his  son,  and  spent  several 
days  in  camp;  and  Bishop  Elliot,  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  gave 
us  a  glorious  sermon.  Then  we  have  old  Dr.  Stiles  and  Dr. 
Hoge,  of  the  Presbyterian  Church;  and  Dr.  Jeter  and  Dr.  Jones, 
of  the  Baptist  Church;  and  a  host  of  others.  They  have  glori- 
ous singing  in  the  meetings,  and  some  are  converted  at  every 
service,  and  the  Church  doors  are  opened,  and  the  soldiers  say 
■what  Church  they  wish  to  belong  to. 

Of  course  there  is  a  great  deal  of  wickedness  in  camp.  Many 
of  our  officers  and  men  are  very  bad;  but  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  good.  Our  grand  old  general  is  always  at  service,  and  no 
one  ever  thinks  of  his  doing  anything  which  one  ought  not  to 
do.  As  to  old  Jack,  we  all  know  how  good  he  is.  Gen.  Colquitt 
talks  to  his  men  and  prays  for  them  like  a  preacher,  and  Gen. 
Gordon  is  always  ready  to  help  in  the  meetings. 

I  know  that  it  is  right  hard  to  be  good  in  camp.  li  is  so  hard 
to  find  a  place  to  pray ;  but  I  am  glad  that  my  tent  mate,  who  is 
an  Episcopalian — Maj.  Lanford — prays  night  and  morning.  He 
tries  to  live  right,  though  he  will  say  bad  words  sometimes  when 
he  gets  fretted.     He  says  that  he  means  no  harm  by  it,  though. 

We  have  a  capital  set  of  fellows  on  our  staff.  Maj.  Middle- 
ton,  our  quartermaster,  is  from  an  old  South  Carolina  family, 
and  is  a  man  of  fine  education  and  excellent  mind.  He  is  the 
jolliest  fellow  in  the  world — always  in  a  good  humor.  He  has 
taken  quite  a  fancy  for  me,  and  laughs  at  me  for  being  a  Meth- 
odist; but  I  know  that  he  is  glad  that  I  don't  drink  or  gamble. 

But  I  have  little  to  Avrite  now.     Love  to  all.  Roger. 

There  are  few  things  more  monotonous  than  the 
life  of  the  camp  when  there  is  no  enemy  near,  and 


WINTER   QUARTERS.  1 49 

the  early  days  of  1863  were  uneventful  and  weari- 
some. The  Federals  were  getting  in  new  recruits, 
and  the  conscripting  of  the  whole  South  was  send- 
ing new  men  into  the  army  to  be  made  ready  for 
service.  It  became  evident  to  even  the  common 
soldier  as  May  drew  on  that  there  was  something 
about  to  happen  of  serious  kind;  and  so  there  was, 
for  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville  was  fought.  The 
Confederates  won  the  batde ;  but  at  what  a  fearful 
cost !  for  Stonewall  Jackson  was  killed,  alas  !  by  his 
own  men,  through  a  fearful  mistake.  The  brigade 
to  which  Roger  belonged,  which  had  been  so  fear- 
fully cut  up  at  the  fight  in  December,  was  not 
brought  into  this  action,  and  he  had  little  to  write 
except  concerning  the  sad  event  which  so  dis- 
tressed the  whole  South: 

Camp  Lee,  May,  1S62. 

My  Dear  Helen:  Yovi  have  heard  the  sad  news.  Gen.  Jack- 
son is  dead !  You  cannot  imagine  the  shadow  that  it  has  thrown 
over  the  whole  armj.  Dear  old  "Jack,"  as  we  used  to  call  him, 
so  quiet  and  calm  and  determined,  so  courteous  to  everybody, 
so  pious,  so  brave.  •  It  would  have  been  sad  enough  for  him  to 
have  been  killed  leading  his  own  corps  to  battle,  but  to  fall  by 
a  shot  from  one  who  would  have  died  for  him  was  too  sad. 
Gen.  Lee,  always  so  calm,  has  an  air  of  deep  grief  which  is  inde- 
scribable. The  victory  that  we  have  won  is  not  a  victory,  now 
that  Jackson  is  dead. 

We  are  getting  ready  now  for  a  move  northward.  Of  course 
•we  do  not  know  where  Ave  are  going,  but  from  the  nature  of  the 
preparation  and  the  massing  of  the  troops,  I  think  that  Ave  are 


150  THE  BOY  IN   GRAY. 

going  to  take  the  offensive,  and  I  would  not  be  at  all  surprised 
if  we  find  ourselves  in  Pennsylvania  before  the  campaign  ends. 
Gen.  Lee  is  anxious  to  end  this  thing. 

Mr,  Lincoln,  jou  know,  has  issued  his  proclamation,  and  the 
negroes  are  as  free  as  he  can  make  them,  and  we  are  now  as 
strong  as  we  will  ever  be.  If  old  Jack  Avere  at  the  head  of  his 
corps,  I  wovild  not  be  troubled;  but  alas!  he  is  not  there,  and 
there  is  no  one  to  take  his  place.  We  have  just  received  or- 
ders to  move,  and  I  do  not  know  when  I  can  write  jou  again. 

Roger. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  did  write  again. 
Gen.  Lee  did  advance,  as  he  supposed  that  he 
would.  The  battle  of  Gett3^sburg  was  fought,  and 
among  the  wounded  and  missing  as  reported  in 
the  lists  was  Lieut.  Roger  Lawson,  A.  A.  G.,  of 
Lawson's  Brigade. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    AMERICAN    WATERLOO. 

■p  HAVE  never  been  able  to  read  without  a  shud- 
*  der  the  story  of  Gettysburg,  and  those  who 
wish  to  hear  of  the  terrible  events  of  those  awful 
days  must  go  elsewhere  to  find  them  told  than  to 
these  pages.  I  only  know  that  when  the  few  came 
back  from  that  daring  and  magnificent  but  fatal 
charge  on  the  second  day,  when  the  hundred 
guns  poured  out  their  volleys  of  shot  and  shell, 
Roger  Lawson  was  not  one  of  them;  and 
when  Brig.  Gen.  Lawson  gathered  up  the  rem- 
nants of  his  brigade  for  the  retreat  to  IMaryland 
he  had  to  leave  his  own  son  behind.  A  flag  of 
truce,  however,  brought  him  the  news  that  Roger, 
with  a  shattered  arm,  was  a  prisoner;  that  his 
wound,  though  serious,  was  not  mortal.  Gen. 
Lawson  himself  had  his  horse  shot  under  him  and 
received  a  slight  wound,  or  what  appeared  then  to 
be  a  slight  one,  in  his  chest,  but  was  not  so  disabled 
as  not  to  be  able  to  handle  his  brigade.     He  wrote 

to  his  wife: 

Near  Gettysburg,  Julj,  1863. 

My  Dear  Wife:  The  most  fearful  battle  of  the  war  is  over. 

You  have  heard  the  story.     I  have  no  heart  to  sav  more.     I 

(151) 


152  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

only  know  Gen.  Lee  said,  "Charge  the  guns;"  and  we  went 
for  them.  The  men  never  behaved  better,  and  our  boy  swept 
over  the  field  as  long  as  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  sit  on 
his  horse,  as  calmly  as  he  ever  led  a  chase  at  home.  As  we 
climbed  the  heights  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  remain  on 
horseback,  and  he  leaped  from  the  saddle,  and  sword  in  hand 
led  the  men  toward  the  guns.  I  lost  sight  of  him  in  the  ter- 
rible struggle.  We  broke  through  the  line,  we  captured  the 
guns,  but  before  we  could  make  our  victory  sure  the  Federal 
reserve  came  on,  and  a  new  battery  poured  a  deadly  fire  upon 
us,  and  the  order  came  to  retire.  I  did  not  know  what  had  be- 
come of  my  boy,  save  that  Capt.  Barclay  said  he  saw  him  fall, 
until  this  morning,  when  I  received  this  note  by  flag  of  truce: 

Hospital  Camp,  U.  S  A. 

Gen.  La-vson:  Your  son,  Lieut.  Lawson,  is  in  our  hands  and 
under  my  care  in  the  hospital.  He  begs  me  to  say  he  is  not 
mortally  wounded;  his  right  arm  is  shattered  and  he  may  lose 
it,  but  his  life  is  safe.  He  will  recei\  e  all  the  care  we  can  pos- 
sibly give  him. 

Yours,  Thomas  McLean,  Assf.  Sur.  U.  S.  A. 

I  telegraphed  you  that  he  was  wounded  and  a  prisoner,  but 
safe.  I  am  expecting  every  moment  for  the  brigade  to  move 
southward,  but  I  can  send  this  by  one  of  the  cavalry  who  is  go- 
ing to  Virginia  to-night.  Roger  Lawson. 

Roger  was  removed  to  the  hospital  in  the  little 

city  of  Gettysburg.     There  was  no  hope  for  his 

right  arm,  which   had   been   almost   cut  off  by  a 

shell,  and  it  was  decided  to  amputate  it  at  once. 

His  first  letter  was  to  his  mother  and  was  written  by 

an  amanuensis: 

Gettysburg  Hospital,  July,  1863. 
My  Darling  Mother :    As   you    see,  my   handwriting  is  im- 
proved.    The  fact  is  I  have  got  into  the  good  graces  of  a  nice 


THE  AMERICAN  WATERLOO.  1 53 

little  Pennsylvania  maiden,  and  she  is  writing  for  me.  I  am 
glad  I  am  able  to  dictate  a  letter,  for  I  tell  you  it  looked  once 
like  I  never  would  write  or  speak  again.  Before  I  went  into  bat- 
tle I  raised  my  heart  to  God,  and  as  we  went  into  that  storm  of 
shot  and  shell  I  knew  no  more  until  I  fell.  The  brigade  was 
repulsed.  I  lay  on  the  field  for  several  houi-s.  Some  kind  Fed- 
eral going  over  the  battlefield  saw  me  unable  to  move,  for  my 
old  wound  had  left  my  leg  so  weak  that  in  trying  to  mount  the 
heights,  just  as  the  shot  struck  my  arm  I  fell  and  sprained  my 
ankle ;  they  took  me  in  their  arms  and  carried  me  to  a  camp  fire, 
where  one  of  them  gave  me  some  coffee  and  some  hard-tack.  I 
had  eaten  nothing  all  day,  and  when  I  took  the  coffee  and  bread 
I  was  refreshed.  By  this  time  the  ambulance  corps  was  com- 
ing nigh,  and  one,  an  honest-looking  "Buckeye,"  said:  "Say, 
lieutenant,  you  have  a  gold  watch,  I  see.  If  you  go  to  the  hospital 
with  it  on,  it  is  likely  you'll  never  see  it  again.  Now  give  it  to 
me,  and  give  me  your  name  and  address,  and  I  will  take  care 
of  it  for  you  and  send  it  home  to  your  folks  as  soon  as  I  get  a 
chance."*  The  fellow  looked  so  hone.st  that  I  did  not  care  to 
help  myself  if  I  could,  and  I  could  not  if  I  would,  so  I  handed 
it  over.     Maybe  you'll  get  it  or  hear  of  it;  likely  not. 

Well,  mamma,  don't  be  troubled  about  me.  I  am  all  right. 
The  doctor  cut  off  my  arm  just  above  the  elbow,  but  he  says  I 
am  doing  splendidly.  God  has  been  very  good  to  me,  and 
these  good  people  of  the  Christian  Commission  are  kind  and 
considerate.  I  do  not  know  where  I'll  go  after  I  leave  here, 
but  I  am  likely  to  stay  here  some  time  yet.  I  know  I  can't  go 
anywhere  that  your  prayers  won't  follow  me  and  God  will  not 
be  near  me. 

I  see  in  the  daily  papers  that  my  old  friend  Bingham  was  dis- 
tinguished for  his  gallantry,  and  has  been  promoted  to  a 
captaincy.     I  am  glad  to  hear  of  it.     God  bless  you. 

Ever  your  boy,  Roger. 

-■And  he  did.  The  watch  came  safely  as  soon  as  communication  was 
restored. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


HOSPITAL  LIFE. 


^jtf^HE  sprained  ankle  kept  Roger  in  bed,  as  the 
^  severed  arm  necessarily  kept  him  in  his  ward. 
Many  people  came  to  the  hospital.  They  came 
from  all  sections  x>i  the  North,  and  of  course 
Roger  had  all  kinds  of  visitors.  Of  these  some 
were  very  agreeable,  and  some  otherwise. 

The  persistence  with  which  the  people  of  the 
United  States  have  misunderstood  and  misrepre- 
sented each  other  is  certainl}^  a  strange  fact  in  our 
history,  and  nothing  is  more  unwelcome  to  either 
section  than  a  true  story  of  the  character  of  the 
people  of  the  opposition.  Now  I  am  sure  that, 
Southern  born  as  I  am,  and  Southern  bred,  and 
with  nearly  all  my  readers  in  the  South,  I  should 
gratify  many  of  them  much  more  than  I  will  if  I 
were  to  say  that  all  Northern  people  were  unscru- 
pulous, malignant,  cruel,  and  all  Southerners 
were  generous,  forgiving,  tender.  I  am  sure  that 
those  people  who  look  upon  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cab- 
in "  as  authentic  history  will  not  be  apt  to  accept 

such  an  account  as  this  of  Helen  and  Roger  as  a 

(154) 


HOSPITAL   LIFE.  I55 

true  one.  Well,  I  can't  help  that;  I  know  the 
mass  of  the  Northern  people  were  honest  in  their 
belief  that  they  were  fighting  for  liberty,  and  many 
of  them  kindly  in  their  feelings  toward  their  mis- 
guided foes  of  the  South;  and  I  know  that  just 
such  people  as  Roger  and  Helen  were  found  now 
and  then  in  all  the  South,  but  if  I  were  to  leave 
the  impression  that  there  were  no  other  kind  of 
folks,  North  or  South,  I  certainly  would  mislead; 
and  Roger  found  this  to  be  true,  much  to  his  an- 
noyance. 

The  Federal  army  was  well  provided  with  every- 
thing, and  no  two  parts  of  its  equipment  were  more 
valuable  and  praiseworthy  than  the  Christian  and 
sanitar}^  commissions.  The  battle  of  Gettysburg 
was  no  sooner  over  than  both  were  on  the  ground, 
and  in  providing  for  the  wounded  they  knew  no 
distinction  of  uniforms;  blue  and  gray  were  alike 
objects  of  care.  The  good  women  of  Gettysburg 
were,  as  good  women  are  everywhere,  full  of 
kindly  sympathies,  and  a  genial  old  maid  took 
Roger,  rebel  as  he  was,  under  her  especial  care. 
She  wrote  his  letters  for  him,  brought  him  books 
to  read,  and  prepared  nice  dishes  for  him.  She 
came  to  see  him  every  day.  She  was  a  great 
Unionist,  but  she  took  her  "wicked  rebel,"  as 
she  called  Roger,  under  her  careful  charge;   but 


156  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY, 

there  were  other  visitors  who  did  not  look  so  kind- 
ly on  him.  They  came  to  his  cot,  and  when  they 
found  out  he  was  a  rebel  they  looked  as  if  some 
awful  wrong  had  been  done  them  by  the  govern- 
ment taking  care  of  him  at  all,  and  hurried  on. 
It  was  not  often  they  said  an3^thing,  but  one  day  a 
very  smooth,  oil}^  quick-spoken  visitor  from  Mas- 
sachusetts came  through  the  hospital.  He  was 
gushing  over  the  brave  defenders  of  the  flag,  and 
copiously  pouring  out  his  words  of  commendation. 
When  he  came  to  Roger's  cot  he  evidently  thought 
him  a  Federal  soldier,  and  said:  "Ah!  my  poor 
hero,  you  have,  I  see,  given  up  your  own  brave 
right  arm  in  defense  of  our  flag.  What  regiment 
was  yours  ?  ' ' 

"  I  was  a  Confederate,  sir," 

"What?  jo«  a  rebel?" 

"No,  sir;   a  Confederate  soldier," 

"No,  sir!  You  were  a  rebel  against  the  best 
government  the  world  ever  saw.  You  lost  3'our 
arm,  and  you  ought  to  have  lost  your  head,"  he 
said  angrily, 

"And  you  have  lost  yours,  you  dirty  coward!  " 
said  the  surgeon,  who  had  just  come  up,  "You 
get  out  of  this  ward,  or  I  will  make  the  hospital 
steward  kick  you  out," 

"  Why,  Captain"— 


HOSPITAL   LIFE.  I57 

"  Not  a  word  more,  sir.  No  man  shall  be  in- 
sulted in  this  hospital  by  any  one,  much  less  by  a 
coward  who  does  not  dare  to  fight  for  his  princi- 
ples.    Leave  here,  sir,  leave."     And  he  left. 

But  this  was  not  half  so  annoying  as  an  encoun- 
ter he  had  with  a  good  woman  from  Western  New 
York.  She  came  to  his  cot,  and  said  softly,  and 
with  apparent  great  sincerity,  when  she  knew  who 
he  was:  "  Well,  my  young  friend,  I  hope  you  are 
prepared  to  die." 

"  Yes,  I  hope  so,  ma'am;  but  I  am  in  no  special 
hurry  to  do  so." 

"  I  learn  you  are  a  rebel." 

*'  Yes,  ma'am;   some  call  us  so." 

"  Well,  I  hope,  my  young  friend,  that  the  se- 
vere chastisement  visited  on  you  has  led  you  to 
repentance." 

"  I  fear  not,  ma'am." 

*' There  are  none  so  hopeless  as  those  that  are 
hardened  in  sin.  You  have  been  fearfully  guilty, 
and  your  sin  has  found  you  out." 

*'And  ef  you  plase,  ma'am,"  said  the  Irish  sol- 
dier who  was  in  charge,  "  ef  you  plase,  ma'am,  the 
docther  says  we  were  not  to  parmit  the  visitors  to 
talk  too  much  to  the  patients." 

"Well,  I  will  obey  his  orders,  but  my  conscience 
bids  me  to  say,  young  man,  that  '  He  that  being 


I5S  THE   BOY    IN   GRAY. 

often  reproved  hardeneth  his  neck,  shall  suddenly 
be  destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy.'  " 

She  walked  majestically  away  with  the  sweet 
complacency  of  one  who  had  done  her  full  duty. 

Roger  was  nervous  and  sad  and  lonel}',  and  the 
cold,  hard,  metallic  tone  of  the  woman's  voice  hurt 
him  more  than  he  was  willing  to  admit.  Just  then 
Miss  Alice,  his  good  friend,  came  to  make  her 
daily  visit.  She  saw  the  shadow  over  his  face, 
and  asked  him  what  was  the  matter,  why  he 
looked  so  sad? 

"O,  nothing,"  he  said,  with  a  faint  smile. 

'*  Yis,  mom,  if  yez  had  been  here  whin  that  lady 
phats  just  gone  out  was  a  preachin'  to  the  Lieu- 
tenant, an'  callin'  him  a  rebel  an'  vv'hat  not,  yez 
wouldn't  be  shurprized  at  the  way  he  luks." 

"O  yes,  I  know  her;  and  I  am  determined  3'ou 
shan't  have  this  bother  any  longer.  If  Dr.  Mc- 
Lean will  help  me  (and  I  think  he  will),  we  will 
have  you  moved  to  the  Confederate  hospital,  and 
there  you  will  be  free  from  annoyance." 

When  she  spoke  to  the  doctor,  and  told  him  of 
the  disagreeable  visitors,  he  readily  promised  to 
do  as  she  wished,  and  added:  "If  they  come 
about  that  old  copperhead.  Dr.  Sims,  they  will 
catch  it  certain.  The  peppery  old  fellow  is  an 
old  army  surgeon,  and  is  not  hurt  by  his  loyalty 


HOSPITAL  LIFE.  I59 

anyhow.  Yes,  I'll  move  the  Lieutenant  to-mor- 
row." 

So  Roger  was  moved.  It  was  some  weeks  be- 
fore he  could  walk.  The  old  wound  broke  out 
again,  and  the  old  doctor  insisted  on  an  operation, 
to  which  Roger  cheerfully  submitted.  Then  Roger 
began  rapidly  to  recover,  and  was  soon  almost 
well.  Miss  Alice  was  as  kind  as  she  had  always 
been,  but,  like  many  good  people,  she  was  poor, 
and  Roger  had  no  money  and  only  such  clothing 
as  the  hospital  supplied,  and  he  was  in  no  condi- 
tion to  leave  it. 

One  day  a  Maryland  lady  visited  the  hospital 
with  supplies  from  Baltimore  for  the  Confederates. 
As  she  left  Roger,  after  a  pleasant  visit,  she  put 
in  his  hand  this  card :  "  Write  to  your  sister,  Mrs. 
Charles  Bacon,  and  let  her  know  your  needs." 
This  was  all.  When  Miss  Ahce  came  she  saw  the 
card.  "That's  the  very  thing,"  she  said.  "I 
know  both  Lizzie  Bacon  and  her  husband,  and  I 
know  they  are  willing  and  able  to  help  any  of  her 
kin,  but  I  did  not  know  she  was  your  sister," 

"And  she  is  not,  unless  she  is  a  Methodist;  for 
I  have  but  one  sister,  and  that  is  Helen." 

"Well,  she  is  a  Methodist,  and  as  you  are  not 
permitted  to  get  help  except  some  from  your  rela- 
tions, I  reckon  you  might  call  her  sister." 


l6o  THE   BOV  IN   GRAY. 

"  Well,  I  must  have  some  help,  and  so  you  may 
write  to  her  for  me."  And  Miss  Alice  took  her 
pencil  and  wrote  as  Roger  dictated.  He  asked 
for  a  loan  of  $50,  to  be  returned  as  soon  as  he 
had  reached  home.  In  a  week  a  check  for  $50 
was  received  in  a  short  note  signed  simpl}^, 
"  Your  Sister  Lizzie." 

In  those  days  when  every  act  was  carefully 
watched  and  detectives  were  in  every  corner  and 
every  offer  of  help  to  a  Southern  soldier  was  looked 
upon  with  suspicion,  this  somewhat  innocent  form 
of  deception  was  not  unusual  nor  looked  upon  with 
any  special  disfavor,  nor  did  the  Federal  officers 
inquire  very  closely  as  to  the  facts. 

An  overcoat  and  a  plain  suit  of  gray,  purchased 
with  a  part  of  the  mone}^  supplied  Roger  with 
clothing,  but  he  had  no  money  left.  IMiss  Alice, 
however,  Union  woman  as  she  was,  moved  among 
the  Southern  sympathizers,  who  were  not  a  few  in 
Pennsylvania,  and  Roger  went  well  furnished  to 
Fort  Delaware,  where  he  was  regularly  enrolled 
as  a  prisoner.  He  managed  to  get  several  short, 
cheery  letters  through  the  lines  which  brought  re- 
lief to  the  burdened  hearts  at  "  Pine  Lodge." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

'*PINE   lodge"    again. 

)F  I  did  not  give  my  young  readers  frequent 
glimpses  of  home  life  in  these  trying  days,  I 
should  very  sadly  fail  in  my  purpose,  which  is  to 
show  how  the  days  through  which  the  whole  coun- 
try passed  in  these  years  of  conflict  developed 
character.  The  men  who  were  old  enough  to  fight 
were  ordered  to  the  front,  and  upon  the  women 
and  older  men  and  children  fell  all  the  burden  of 
providing  for  those  at  home  and  in  the  army. 

The  cutting  off  of  the  interior  of  the  country 
from  all  foreign  supplies  made  it  necessary  for 
everything  to  be  produced  at  home.  Mr.  Jones 
had  decided  that  after  the  rice  crop  of  1863  was 
harvested  it  would  be  impossible  to  make  another, 
and  so  he  had  removed  all  the  negroes  from  the 
coast  to  the  pine  woods.  The  home  guard  kept  up  a 
constant  patrol  and  protected  the  farms  which  were 
out  of  reach  of  the  gunboats.  Those  on  the  rivers 
were  abandoned.  There  were  no  Federal  forces 
nearer  than  Port  Royal  and  Fort  Pulaski,  but  the 
island  and  the  coast  were  exposed  to  attack  and 

devastation    at  any  time.     The   necessity   of  the 
11  (l:n) 


l62  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

times  led  the  planters  to  turn  everything  in  the  di- 
rection of  food  production. 

Helen  had  been  director  general  of  everything 
at  "Pine  Lodge,"  but  Mr.  Jones  now  relieved 
her  and  took  charge  of  the  large  plantation.  Still 
she  had  much  to  do,  and  did  what  no  one  thought 
she  could  do.  Her  father  was  more  than  ever  con- 
cerned about  home,  and  Helen  wrote  him  very  fully 

of  what  she  was  trying  to  have  done: 

December,  1S63. 

My  Dear  Papa:  As  you  suggested,  Air.  Jones  decided  to 
move  everything  from  "  Lawson  Place  "  and  Med  way,  and  for  the 
time  abandon  any  effort  to  plant  anotlier  ci^op  of  rice.  lie  has 
rented  four  hundred  acres  of  his  brother's  place,  and  expects  to 
plant  the  swamp  field  in  upland  rice.  We  expect  to  put  twenty 
acres  in  potatoes,  and  forty  acres  in  ground  peas  for  the  hogs. 
All  the  newly  cleared  land  we  will  put  in  peas.  I  had  fi\e acres 
in  tin-nips,  and  with  one  of  our  large  sirup  kettles  we  managed 
to  make  a  good  soup  for  the  little  negroes  every  day.  Our  po- 
tato crop  was  good,  and  they  are  keeping  well  and  help  us  out 
greatly.  We  find  that  while  we  cannot  feed  the  people  like  we 
did,  yet  they  have  an  abundance  of  rice  and  potatoes  and  sirup. 
We  manage  to  supply  them  wilh  moat  at  least  twice  a  week. 
I  wn-ite  you  this  particularly,  because  I  know  you  are  so  inter- 
ested in  these  facts. 

Young  Bob  and  Stumpy  BiH  ran  away  and  were  cau.ght  by 
the  home  guard  and  brought  home.  You  know  Bob  has  a  wife 
and  eight  children,  and  Bill  has  a  family  as  large.  They  ex- 
pected me  to  turn  them  over  for  punishment  to  Mr.  Jones,  but 
I  said  to  them:  "  Now,  boys,  if  you  want  to  go  to  the  \'ankces, 
jO-o/  but  3'ou  must  take  voin-  families.  If  you  can  take  care  of 
them  better  than  we  raii,  lake  them.     I  am  willing.     I  am   not 


"  PINE    LODGE  "    AGAIN.  163 

going  to  have  ISIr.  Jones  punish  you,  but  I  don't  want  to  see  you 
on  tliis  ph;ce  after  to-nijlit  unless  you  are  going  to  behave 
properly,  and  the  first  time  you  do  wrong  again  I  am  going  to 
drive  you  and  your  families  off  the  place."  They  were  very 
penitent,  and  I  don't  think  will  leave  again. 

We  heard  from  Roger.  He  could  only  write  a  line.  He  was 
cheerful  and  Mell.     Mamma  sends  much  love.  Helen. 

The  people  at  home  were  put  up  to  all  they  could 
do,  but  the  South  is  so  generous  in  her  gifts  to  the 
laborer  that  subsistence  is  only  impossible  to  the 
absolutely  idle.  They  had  no  flour,  but  they  had 
rice.  The  rice  mills  were  out  of  reach,  and  they 
pounded  the  rice  in  mortars.  The  wax  myrtle  and 
tallow  gave  them  candles.  The  sugar  cane  patch 
gave  them  sugar  and  sirup.  The  cotton  fields 
gave  them  material  for  clothing.  The  negroes 
could  not  get  leather  for  shoes,  but  the  climate 
was  so  mild  the}^  did  not  need  them.  The  old 
women  carded  cotton  and  wool,  and  the  young 
v/omen  spun  it  and  wove  it  into  cloth,  and  so  the 
little  colony  was  supplied  ;  and  one-tenth  of  all  was 
sent  to  the  army  to  help  to  supply  it  with  stores. 

Helen  still  attended  her  Sunday  school  regular- 
ly, and  still  managed  it  almost  alone.  The  good 
mother  bore  the  burden  of  unceasing  anxiety,  but 
lived  in  the  atmosphere  of  trust  and  prayer.  The 
few  neighbors  who  were  left  were  very  kind,  and 
did  what  they  could  to  help,  but  the  burdens  fell 
on  all  alike. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PRISON   LIFE. 

^^HERE  is  little  pleasure  to  me  in  telling  of  any- 
-'■  thing  connected  with  the  fratricidal  strife  be- 
tween the  States;  but  sad  as  it  was,  it  w^as — and 
we  need  not  try  (for  we  cannot  do  so)  to  blot  the 
story  out.  But  of  all  its  chapters  there  are  none 
which  to  me  are  so  painful  as  those  that  tell  of 
prison  life.  It  is  impossible  to  make  such  a  life 
agreeable,  but,  alas !  many  things  were  done  and 
left  undone  by  both  sides  to  make  it  worse  than 
it  ought  to  have  been,  and  then,  perhaps,  parti- 
san hate  has  added  to  the  story  its  usual  exagger- 
ations. I  do  not  think  it  is  a  fit  thinfj  for  either 
side  to  reproach  the  other.  For  every  act  of  op- 
pression in  Andersonville  or  Libby  Prison  a  like 
act  just  as  indefensible  can  be  found  in  Elmira 
and  Fort  Delaware  and  Johnson's  Island.  Why 
prisoners  were  not  exchanged  and  much  suffering 
avoided  is  a  question  we  need  not  open  here,  but 
when  Roger  came  to  Fort  Delaware  the  exchange 
had  ceased,  and  there  was  nothing  before  him  but 

to  wait  till  the  end, 
(104) 


PRISON  LIFE.  165 

There  had  been,  as  there  always  is  in  times  of 
war,  questions  about  the  treatment  of  prisoners 
which  each  side  answered  to  suit  itself;  and  in  or- 
der to  punish  the  guilty,  the  two  governments  de- 
cided to  punish  the  innocent.  They  called  this 
retaliation,  and  it  was  sufficiently  cruel  and  diabol- 
ical to  be  called  anything,  and  to  both  governments 
was  a  blot  of  darkest  dye. 

Fort  Delaware  was  now  under  the  charge  of  a 
brutal  German  named  Schoef,  who  was  willing  to 
go  beyond  even  his  orders  in  punishing  the  poor 
prisoners  under  his  charge.  On  a  little  island,  a 
treeless  sand  bed  in  the  Delaware  bay  where  the 
Brandywine  empties  into  it,  was  this  large  fort, 
intended  as  a  defense  to  the  city  of  Philadelphia, 
sixty  miles  away.  On  this  island  barracks  had 
been  erected.  They  were  of  thin  boards,  hot  in 
summer  and  fearfully  cold  in  winter.  Here  the 
prisoners  were  divided  into  companies  and  messes 
and  placed  under  guard.  The  officers  were  in 
one  set  of  barracks  and  the  privates  in  another. 
The  whole  was  in  command  of  the  German  colonel 
and  the  various  companies  under  the  command  of 
subalterns.  Escape  was  almost  impossible,  for 
deep  water  was  on  every  side.  The  officers  in  the 
barracks  were  divided  into  messes,  and  were  fur- 
nished from  the   commissary   departm.ent  with  a 


l66  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

meager  supply  of  unpalatable  food,  and  in  winter 
a  very  small  quantity  of  fuel  and  a  very  limited 
amount  of  clothing  and  bedding.  The  prisoners 
made  the  best  of  the  situation.  They  had  religious 
services,  gave  concerts,  had  court  for  the  trial  of 
offenders,  had  their  trading  booths,  sold  fried  rats, 
catfish,  and  ginger  cake,  and,  alas!  gambled  in 
every  possible  way. 

The  details  of  personal  suffering  and  needless 
cruelty  at  last  came  to  the  ears  of  Col.  Thruston^ 
Member  of  Congress  from  Ohio,  whose  nephew 
was  in  prison.  He  had  an  interview  with  Mr.  Lin- 
coln. The  kindly  heart  of  the  President  was  much 
moved  by  his  story  of  the  sufferings  of  the  prisoner, 
and  he  sent  for  Mr.  Stanton.  When  the  Secretary 
came  he  told  him  what  he  had  heard  and  told  him 
to  order  the  officer  commanding  to  abate  his  rigor- 
ous treatment.  "  Now,  Mr.  Secretary,  the  war  is 
awful  enough,  and  these  deluded  people  are  suf- 
fering enough  without  any  needless  cruelty,  and  I 
want  you  to  detail  some  young  American  officers 
and  put  them  in  charge  of  the  prisoners,  good 
men  and  firm  men,  but  not  tyrants."  The  Secre- 
tary was  in  no  very  good  humor;  but  the  matter 
was  settled ;  and  so  Capt.  Bingham,  of  the  Eleventh 
Connecticut,  was  ordered  to  report  at  the  fort  and 
assist  in  the  work  of   caring  for   the    prisoners. 


PRISON   LIFE.  167 

When  he  looked  over  the  Hst  of  prisoners  commit- 
ted to  his  charge  he  was  startled  to  see  the  name 
of  his  old  associate  in  the  hospital  at  Warrenton. 
As  soon  as  all  his  office  affairs  had  been  properly 
settled,  he  called  his  orderly  and  giving  him  a 
card  with  the  name  of  Lieut.  Roger  Lawson  on 
it,  he  gave  him  an  order  to  request  that  Confeder- 
ate officer  to  report  at  headquarters.  Roger  did 
not  know  the  new  commandant,  and  was  much 
puzzled  at  the  request,  but  at  once  accompanied 
the  orderly.  He  was  taken  into  the  presence  of 
the  Captain. 

"You  can  now  retire,  orderly,  and  close  my 
door,  and  allow  no  one  to  disturb  me  for  half  an 
hour." 

The  orderly  gave  his  salute  and  took  his  place 
at  the  door. 

Roger  did  not  at  first  recognize  his  friend. 
The  pale-faced  youth  of  tv/o  years  before,  dressed 
then  in  citizen's  clothes,  and  the  bronzed,  mus- 
tached,  uniformed  soldier  of  to-day  were  not 
much  alike.  The  Captain  rose,  and  stepping  to 
the  door  locked  it,  and  quickly  removed  his  coat. 
He  stretched  out  a  bare  arm,  and  simply  said; 
"  See  that,  Johnny?" 

A  bright  smile  crossed  the  face  of  the  prisoner 
as  he  stretched  out  his  left  hand  and  grasped  the 


l68  THE   BOY    IN   GRAY. 

extended.  "Yes,  Yank;  and  I  am  glad  to  see 
you  had  better  luck  than  I  did." 

The  two  friends  had  a  royal  time  for  the  half- 
hour,  and  then  Capt.  Bingham  said  to  his  friend: 
"  Now,  Johnny,  you  know  how  I  am  situated, 
but  anything  I  can  do  for  you  I  will  do.  If  you 
choose  to  take  a  place  in  the  commissary  depart- 
ment, I  can  give  it  to  you." 

"  No,  I  am  obliged  to  you.  I  prefer  not  to  leave 
my  messmates,  but  I  am  as  grateful  to  you  as  if  I 
were  to  accept  your  kindness." 

"  Well,  I  don't  blame  you  for  not  leaving  them. 
I  am  aware  of  some  things  here  which  need  cor- 
rection, and  you  can  assure  your  fellow-prisoners 
that  while  I  will  strictly  regard  orders  from  head- 
quarters I  will  do  all  I  can  to  prevent  any  abuse 
of  them." 

The  half-hour  was  soon  gone.  As  Roger  rose 
to  go  his  friend  handed  him  five  crisp  ten-dollar 
greenbacks  and  said:    "  Take  this  as  a  loan." 

Roger  hesitated ;  but,  remembering  that  it 
was  foolish  pride  that  would  not  allow  a  friend 
to  do  a  favor  for  one  when  he  was  in  need,  he 
accepted. 

There  was  no  indication  when  the  Captain  in- 
spected the  camp  and  came  to  the  company  of 
which  Roger  was  one  that  he  knew  the  prisoner; 


PRISON   LIFE.  169 

nor  did  Roger  allow  any  one  to  know  that  the 
captain  in  charge  was  his  friend. 

He  still  kept  up  his  correspondence  with  Miss 
Alice  and  Mrs.  Bacon.  Among  his  associate 
prisoners  was  Gen.  Forney,  of  Alabama.  He 
had  known  Gen.  Lawson  in  the  army,  and  soon 
had  a  tender  regard  for  his  son.  One  day  he  said 
to  him:  "Lawson,  study  law.  Get  a  'Black- 
stone  '  and  I'll  be  your  preceptor." 

"Agreed,"  said  Roger. 

So  "  Blackstone  "  with  other  books  was  secured 
from  Judge  Bingham's  through  his  son,  and  Roger 
beffan  his  studies.  Months  came  and  went.  The 
daily  papers  told  of  Gen.  Grant's  persistent  and 
futile  efforts  to  get  to  Richmond,  of  the  fall  of 
Atlanta,  and  the  siege  of  Petersburg;  and  poor 
Roger  like  a  caged  lion  had  to  hear  the  story  and 
feel  the  vain  longing  to  be  where  he  could  do 
something  for  the  cause. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

WAVE    UPON    WAVE. 

fHE  lines  of  Grant  were  getting  nearer  and 
nearer  to  Richmond,  but  the  grand  general- 
ship of  Lee  had  kept  the  great  captain  who  had 
won  in  every  other  field  still  out  of  the  Confeder- 
ate capital.  Gen.  Lawson's  brigade  was  in  front 
of  Gen.  Butler,  who  was  mining  away  under  the 
intrenchment  which  he  could  not  carry  by  assault. 
The  prisoners  at  Fort  Delaware,  comprising  some 
of  the  brightest  officers  of  the  army,  were  still 
making  the  best  of  the  situation.  Roger  w^as  still 
diligently  at  work  on  his  law  books,  and  Gen.  For- 
ney was  giving  him  careful  instructions.  Every 
month  he  received  a  letter  without  signature,  in- 
closing ten  dollars.  The  mess  table  was  now  well 
spread;  and  but  for  the  terrible  suspense  and  the 
exile  from  home  the  life  of  the  imprisoned  officers 
vv^ould  have  been  tolerable.  They  received  the 
New  York  and  Philadelphia  papers  every  day,  and 
kept  up  with  the  news  from  the  front.  On  the  ist 
of  August,  when  the  Philadelphia  Press  was 
brought  to  the  camp,  Roger  saw  in  blazing  head- 
(170) 


WAVE   UPON   WAVE.  I7I 

lines:  "The  mine  sprung.  Terrific  slaughter  of 
Confederates,  Heavy  loss  of  Federals.  Over- 
powered by  numbers,  the  Federals  retire.  Gen. 
Lawson,  rebel  brigadier,  killed  on  the  field." 
The  heart  of  the  poor  fellow  sunk,  and  he  fell  on 
his  cot  with  his  face  buried  in  his  pillow.  Gen. 
Forney  stood  kindly  by  and  finally  laid  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder  and  said:  "  Lawson,  this  nevvs 
may  not  be  true.  I  doubt  if  it  is.  It  is  not  likely 
that  the  reporter  could  have  known  certainly. 
Don't  give  up  hope." 

The  orderly  came  at  that  moment.  "  Order 
for  Lieut.  Lawson  from  the  Captain,"  he  said. 

Roger  rose  and  wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes 
and  accompanied  the  orderly. 

When  they  were  alone  Capt.  Bingham  said: 
"  Roger,  there  is  no  certainty  in  this  report.  Wait 
till  you  hear  more  directl}^  I  have  a  friend  on 
Butler's  staff.  I  will  wire  him,  and  he  will  be  able 
to  remove  your  doubt.     Cheer  up  and  hope  on." 

It  was  about  nightfall  when  the  same  orderly 
came  with  the  same  order,  and  when  Roger 
reached  his  friend's  ofiice  he  handed  him  a  dis- 
patch : 

Flag  of  truce  just  returned.  Gen.  Lawson  not  dead;  wound- 
ed severely,  but  not  fatally.  Jenks. 

The  mail  a  few  days  later  brought  a  letter  from 


172  THE   BOY    IN   GRAY. 

his  father  through  the  flag  of  truce.  It  told  him  that 
his  father  was  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  and  that 
he  would  be  disabled  from  service  for  some  time; 
that  he  would  return  home  on  leave  of  absence. 

The  heart  of  the  noble  son  rose  in  gratitude  to 
God  as  he  carried  the  good  news  to  the  affection- 
ate friends  of  his  mess. 

Gen.  Lawson  left  for  home  a  week  after  he  was 
wounded,  and  reached  "Pine  Lodge"  safely. 
The  wound  he  had  received  was  severe,  but  not 
dangerous;  and  while  it  kept  him  confined  to  his 
house,  it  did  not  prevent  him  from  attending  to  his 
business  matters,  which  had  become  complicated 
during  his  long  absence.  He  realized  that  matters 
were  drawing  toward  a  crisis,  and  perhaps  there 
was  to  be  an  end  which  was  not  looked  for.  For 
years  his  overseer  had  left  in  his  hands  the  money 
he  did  not  need  for  expenses,  and  during  these 
three  years  he  had  received  no  salary.  The  Gen- 
eral had  not  been  walling  to  offer  him  Confederate 
money,  depreciated  currency  as  it  was,  in  payment 
of  a  debt  incurred  when  gold  and  silver  were  the 
standards,  and  so  the  matter  was  unsettled.  After 
he  had  been  at  home  for  two  weeks  he  sent  for  his 
overseer,  and  said  to  him:  "  Mr.  Jones,  w^e  have 
had  no  settlement  since  the  war  began,  and  it  is 
time  we  are  havine^  one." 


WAVE  UPON  WAVE.  173 

*'  Well,  General,  I  hain't  worried  about  that.  I 
am  wilHng  for  it  to  go  on  as  it  has  been  a  gwine." 

"  No.  I  don't  know  how  this  war  is  going  to 
end,  and  I  do  not  know,  if  I  get  over  this  wound 
and  get  back  to  the  army,  but  that  I'll  be  less  for- 
tunate next  time.  I  have  no  gold,  I  will  not  pay 
3'ou  in  Confederate  money,  and  I  don't  wish  to 
leave  you  unsecured.  I  owed  you  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war  $i,ooo  in  gold.  Your  salary  has 
been  $500  a  year,  and  there  are  three  years  unpaid. 
This  v/ill,  with  the  interest,  make  about  $3,000  I 
owe  you  now — just  what  this  place  cost.  I  am  go- 
ing to  give  you  a  deed  to  it.  If  I  live,  and  things 
go  right,  I  will  pay  you  in  good  money  after  the 
war,  or  when  you  wish  it,  but  I  would  feel  better 
to  know  you  were  secure  now." 

"Well,  suit  yourself.  General.  I  hain't  scairt 
any  way.  I  know  you'll  do  right,  and  ef  you  go 
up  we  is  all  gone  up." 

The  papers  were  drawn  and  the  deed  put  on 
record.  The  skies  grew  darker.  Sherman  started 
in  November  on  his  march  to  the  sea.  There  was 
no  one  to  oppose  him,  as  he  well  knew  when  he 
began  it.  He  ravaged  as  he  marched,  and  deso- 
lation remained  behind  him.  It  was  evident  that 
he  aimed  to  strike  the  Atlantic  and  Gulf  railroad 
as  he  had  done  the  Central  and  Georgia,  and  de- 


174  ^^^   ^°^    ^^   GRAY. 

stroy  it  as  he  had  done  the  others.  It  was  not 
likely,  if  the  army  came  near  "  Pine  Lodge,"  that 
they  would  fail  to  visit  it.  Gen.  Lawson  was  in 
no  condition  to  fly  anywhere.  The  blow  he  had 
received  on  the  chest  at  Gettysburg  had  left  him 
with  a  cough  which  was  sometimes  alarming,  and 
his  wound  had  not  healed  rapidly.  Roger's  im- 
prisonment, the  unhappy  condition  of  public  af- 
fairs, the  necessities  of  his  people  who  had  to  be 
provided  for,  had  burdened  him  greatly  and  re- 
tarded his  recovery.  When  he  had  reason  to  ex- 
pect a  visit  from  the  yankees,  he  called  old  Jack 
into  his  confidence.  The  old  man  was  to  keep 
guard  and  let  him  know  when  the  3^ankees  were  in 
sight.  Young  Jack  was  to  keep  his  horse  always 
ready  for  him,  and  a  place  of  refuge  was  to  be  pro- 
vided in  the  swamp,  and  a  bridleway  made  to  it, 
and  a  palmetto-covered  tent  made  for  his  protec- 
tion. There  were  none,  save  Helen  and  her  moth- 
er, old  Jack  and  young  Jack,  who  knew  of  this 
provision.  Bob,  the  butler,  was  a  favorite  and 
trusted  servant;  and  the  General,  with  Bob  and  old 
Jack,  went  out  into  the  pine  wood  back  of  the 
house  and  carefully  buried  a  trunk  containing  val- 
uable papers,  the  jewels,  and  the  family  plate. 

The  Federals   drew  nearer   and   nearer.     The 
main  army  went  down  the  Central  road  and  a  de- 


WAVE   UPON  WAVE.  I75 

tachment  of  cavalry  came  Ihrougli  Liberty.  Old 
Jack  was  at  work  in  the  field  when  he  saw  the 
bluecoats  coming  toward  the  house.  He  came 
out  to  the  fence  to  meet  them.  They  were  so  ac- 
customed to  glad  greetings  from  the  negroes,  who 
looked  upon  them  as  their  deliverers  from  bondage, 
that  they  were  not  at  all  surprised  at  the  warm 
greeting  of  the  old  man:  "Well,  massa,  you's 
here  at  las'.  Ts  been  lookin'  fur  3-ou  long  time. 
Heap  niggahs  round  here  look  fur  3'ou." 

"  Who  is  your  master?  " 

"  My  master?  Yes,  sar,  he  named  Mr.  William 
Barnwell  Smith,  sir." 

"  Is  there  a  Gen.  Lawson  living  near  here?  " 

"  O  3'es,  sar;  Gen.  Lawson  lib  down  dat  road 
about  tree  mile,  sah.  He  be  home.  I  seed  him 
yisterday." 

"  Why,  I  thought  they  told  us  this  was  the  way 
to  his  house." 

"  No,  massa,  I  know  de  way.  I  go  up  to  de 
house  and  git  my  mule.  I  go  wid  you  and  show 
you  where  he  lib." 

"Well,  be  quick  about  it." 

"Yes,  Massa;   I  be  back  in  tree  minute." 

So  Jack  ran  to  the  house.  His  master  knew,  as 
he  saw  him  running,  what  it  meant,  and  he  was 
out  of  the  back  door,  and  in  a  full  gallop  to  the 


176  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

swamp,  in  a  moment.  Young  Jack  dashed  away 
on  a  horse  in  the  other  dii^ection.  He  had  on  a 
gray  coat,  and  when  the  Federals  caught  sight  of 
him  they  put  out  in  pursuit.  He  stopped  as  they 
fired  the  first  shot,  and  they  brought  him  to  the 
captain.     "  Who  do  you  belong  to,  sir?  " 

"  Gin.  Lawson,  sah." 

"  Where  does  he  live?  " 

"  Right  up  dar,  sah." 

"  Is  he  at  home?" 

"No,  sah;  he  ain't  been  at  home  dese  tree 
weeks." 

'*  You  lie,  sir;   he  was  at  home  this  morning." 

"Well,  sah;   maybe  so.     I  ain't  seen  him." 

"  Where  were  you  going?  " 

"  Going  to  find  de  Unions,  and  git  free." 

"Where  is  that  old  nigger  who  said  he  would 
be  back  in  three  minutes?" 

"O,  dat  old  fool  Jack?  He  don't  know  his  own 
massa." 

"  Well,  you  take  us  to  your  master's." 

"Yes,  sah;   dis  way." 

The  negroes  heard  that  the  3'ankees  had  come, 
and  they  came  running  to  meet  them;  Lean  Bill, 
Stumpy  Tom,  Yellow  Dick,  and  all  the  hosts. 
Old  Aunt  Judy  and  Mammy  did  not  stir,  and  old 
Jack  was  nowhere  to  be  found ;  but  young  Jack 


WAVE   UPON  WAVE.  1 77 

was  the  most  delighted  of  all  the  gang.  The  bird 
had  flown.  The  captain  of  the  raiders  came  in. 
He  was  courteous  to  the  ladies,  but  he  was  anxious 
to  capture  the  brigadier.  "  Gen.  Lawson  lives 
here?" 

**  Yes,  sir." 

*«  Is  he  at  home?" 

♦♦No,  sir." 

♦♦Where  is  he?" 

♦♦  I  do  not  know,  sir." 

♦♦  When  was  he  here  last?  " 

♦♦  I  dechne  to  tell." 

♦♦  I  must  search  the  house." 

♦♦  Certainly,  sir;  you  can  do  so." 

The  search  was  thorough.  A  search  for  new 
horse  tracks  was  made,  and  they  were  in  abun- 
dance, but  they  went  every  way.  Old  Jack  was 
too  wary  to  be  caught  that  easy.  At  last  the}'  pre- 
pared to  leave.  They  had  all  the  stock  gathered 
up  (horses,  mules,  cows,  calves,  and  everything 
that  could  be  driven),  and  then  told  all  the  negroes 
who  wished  to  go  that  they  could  go  to  the  camp 
or  elsewhere,  and  then  left.  Most  of  the  negroes 
went,  and,  to  the  sorrow  and  astonishment  of  the 
mistress,  the  most  delighted  were  young  Jack  and 
Bob. 

That  night  some  of  the  troopers,  after  they  had 
12 


178  THE   BOV   IN   GRAY. 

given  Bob  a  good  supper  and  several  drinks  of 
whisky  from  their  canteens,  took  him  aside, 
and  said:  "  Now,  my  friend,  if  you  want  to  make 
some  money,  tell  us  where  you  hid  your  master's 
money,  and  we'll  divide  with  you." 

"Well,  sah;  I  don't  know  as  how  Mas  Roger 
buried  no  money,  but  he  buried  a  trunk;  what  he 
got  in  'em  I  dunno." 

"Can  you  find  it?" 

"Yes,  sah;   I  specks  so." 

"  Well,  now,  don't  you  tell  nobody;  you  go  with 
us  there." 

"Yes,  sah." 

So  at  midnight  they  went  for  the  buried  treas- 
ure. The  faithful  Bob  took  them  to  the  spot 
where  he  had  assisted  in  burying  the  trunk.  It 
zuas  not  there!  The  troopers  cursed  him  and 
kicked  him  and  threatened  to  kill  him,  but  he 
said  truly  he  did  not  know  where  the  trunk  was. 
They  could  see  that  it  had  been  there,  and  became 
convinced  that  he  was  not  playing  them  false. 
The  general  was  safe  in  his  hiding  place,  and  old 
Jack  had  made  provision  for  what  might  come. 
He  had  a  bed  of  pine  straw,  a  warm  supper  of 
fried  meat  and  corn  hoecake,  and  kept  watch 
while  his  wounded  master  rested.  He  knew  the 
house  would  be  watched,  and  he  made  himself  in- 


WAVE   UPON  WvVVE.  1 79 

visible.  At  midnio-ht  of  the  second  nio-ht  he 
ghded  up  to  his  cabin  to  tell  his  old  wife  the  news 
to  take  to  her  mistress.  It  was  two  weeks  before 
the  last  of  the  cavalry  was  gone,  and  during  that 
time  the  General  only  left  his  lodging  at  midnight. 
"  Lawson  Place"  was  burned  to  the  ground. 
There  was  only  left  some  rough  rice  and  potatoes 
for  the  negroes.  The  most  of  them  went  to  the 
camp,  but  many  of  them  returned  after  the  raiders 
left;  one  who  came  back  brought  a  few  pounds  of 
coffee  for  "  ole  miss."  Bob,  the  traitor,  never 
came  back,  but  Jack  came  up  with  tw^o  good 
mules  he  had  stolen  from  the  yankees.  The  rice 
cut  from  the  uplands  was  not  yet  threshed,  and 
when  the  negroes  returned  all  hands  were  put  to 
gathering  potatoes,  threshing  rice,  and  picking 
ground  peas.  There  was  a  quantity  of  cowpeas 
still  ungathered  in  the  fields,  and  some  cattle  and 
hogs  in  the  swamp  which  the  raiders  failed  to  get; 
and  that  supply,  with  a  few  bags  of  long  cotton 
which  were  hidden  away  and  which  they  did  not 
find,  was  all  that  was  left. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

FREE    AT   LAST. 

fHE  march  of  Sherman  toward  the  sea  was 
duly  heralded  by  the  Northern  press,  and 
when  he  reached  Savannah  the  full  story  of  his 
wonderful  exploit  was  told  in  flaming  letters. 
Without  a  single  regiment  of  veteran  soldiers  to  op- 
pose him,  he  had  marched  triumphantly  to  the  coast. 
The  story  of  homes  devastated,  of  plantations 
ravaged,  slaves  freed,  stock  captured,  houses 
burned,  railways  torn  up,  was  pleasant  reading  in 
these  wdld  times  to  the  people  of  the  North,  who 
had  begun  to  fear  that  the  war  would  never  end. 

As  poor  Roger  read  these  accounts  he  was  mis- 
erable. He  knew  that  the  army  must  have  struck 
the  Atlantic  and  Gulf  railroad  not  far  from  where 
his  father's  home  was.  But  had  his  father  been 
captured?  What  had  become  of  his  mother  and 
Helen?  The  anxiety  told  upon  him,  and  his  noble 
foe  could  not  but  see  it.  So  Capt.  Bingham  re- 
solved that  if  it  was  in  his  power  to  get  Roger  re- 
leased on  parole  it  should  be  done.     He  knew  that 

his  father  and  Mr.  Lincoln  were  great  friends,  and 
(180) 


FREE  AT   LAST.  l8l 

he  felt  assured  that  all  Mr.  Lincoln  could  do  he 
would  do.  So  he  wrote  to  his  father.  He  told 
of  liovv  Roger  in  all  probability  had  saved  his  life, 
of  how  seriously  he  had  been  injured,  and  of  the 
Heedlessness  of  keeping  longer  in  prison  one  who 
could  do  no  military  service. 

Judge  Bingham,  stern  man  as  he  was,  and  with 
no  warm  place  in  his  heart  for  a  people  who  had 
brought,  as  he  thought,  such  needless  woe  on  the 
country,  had  a  kindly  heart,  and  his  brave  boy  was 
dearer  to  him  than  life,  and  when  his  gentle  daugh- 
ter and  loving  wife  said,  "  Go,"  he  resolved  to  go, 
and  he  took  the  next  train  from  Bin^hamton  to 
Washington.  He  met  Mr.  Lincoln,  stated  his  case, 
and  the  President  did  not  hesitate  a  moment,  but 
wrote  to  the  Secretary  of  War  to  furnish  Judge 
Bingham  the  needful  authority  to  secure  for  Lieut. 
Roger  Lawson.  prisoner  of  war  at  Fort  Delaware, 
a  parole  of  honor  of  indefinite  length,  and  to  fur- 
nish him  transportation  to  Savannah. 

Roger  had  no  idea  of  what  was  in  store  when 
the  orderly  came  for  him  to  report  again  at  head- 
quarters. As  he  entered  the  room  his  friend  dis- 
missed the  orderly,  and  said:  "Lieut.  Lawson,  let 
me  introduce  you  to  my  father." 

The  old  Judge  stretched  out  his  hand  pleasantly, 
and  then  said,  "  I  have  something  for  you,"  and 


I»2  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

handed  him  the  order  that  the  Secretary  of  War 
had  given  him. 

The  poor  boy  was  overcome,  and  burst  into 
tears. 

The  Judge  wiped  his  eyes  as  he  said:  *'  Well,  I 
don't  reckon  that  you  are  anxious  to  stay  here  any 
longer  than  you  are  obliged  to,  and  as  the  boat 
starts  in  an  hour  we  will  go  together  to  New  York, 
from  which  place  there  Is  a  transport  going  to  start 
for  Savannah  in  a  very  short  time." 

Roger  pressed  the  hand  of  his  noble  friend,  and 
hurried  to  his  qharters,  bade  farewell  to  his  com- 
rades, and  was  soon  on  his  wa}'  to  New  York. 
The  old  Judge  left  him  at  the  Astor  House,  where 
he  usually  stopped,  having  paid  his  bill  for  the 
time  that  he  must  wait,  and  went  back  to  his  home 
in  Connecticut  angrier  than  ever  with  the  fire  eaters 
who  had  brought  on  the  war. 

Capt.  Bingham  had  not  been  forgetful  that  Roger 
might  need  funds,  and  had  supplied  him  with  what 
was  necessary. 

Roger  knew  that  a  Confederate  was  not  in 
high  favor  in  New  York  about  that  time,  and  did 
not  make  himself  prominent.  He  was  not  will- 
ing to  conceal  his  true  character,  but  not  dis- 
posed to  advertise  himself.  He  spent  in  his  room 
the  two  days  that  he  was  waiting  for  the  steamer. 


FREE   AT   LAST.  183 

except  as  he  appeared  in  citizen's  clothes  at  the 
table.  He  noticed  a  rough,  gray-bearded  old  fel- 
low sitting  close  to  him  and  eying  him  ver}^  sharpl}-. 
And  the  day  before  he  sailed,  after  dinner,  he  was 
in  his  room  when  he  heard  a  kno«k  at  his  door. 
He  went  to  it,  and  saw  the  old  man.  He  came  in, 
at  Roger's  invitation,  and  took  a  seat.  Looking 
cautiously  around,  he  said,  in  rather  a  hoarse  whis- 
per: "  Look  here,  young  man,  hain't  you  a  Con- 
fed?" 

Roger  smiled,  and  said:  "  Yes;  I  am  a  paroled 
prisoner  going  home  from  Fort  Delaware." 

"  Well,  I  am  Jim  Anderson,  once  from  Pike 
Count}^  Missouri,  but  now  from  Santa  Rosy,  Cal- 
iforny,  and  did  not  know  but  that  you  was  a  tryin' 
to  git  away  from  'em,  and  I'll  be  blessed  if  I 
weren't  gwine  to  help  ye." 

"  No;  I  am  a  paroled  prisoner,  and  have  my  pa- 
pers." 

"  Well,  I've  got  ten  gold  eagles  here  what's 
been  a  waitin'  to  fly  to  some  Confed's  pocket, 
and  these  is  yours." 

"  I  thank  you,  and  I  can't  refuse  to  take  them, 
for  I  know  m}^  father  was  on  Sherman's  line,  and 
I  fear  the  family  and  the  people  are  greatly  desti- 
tute." 

Well,  I  can't  repeat  what  old  Jim   said.     His 


184  THE   BOY    IN    GRAY. 

language  was  more  emphatic  than  pious,  but 
shortly  he  said:  "Well,  I  mout  git  you  into 
trouble,  or  you  mout  git  me  into  trouble.  Good- 
bye, boy,  and  hurrah  for  Jeff  Davis  and  the  Con- 
federacy!  "     The  old  man  left  his  new  friend. 

The  next  afternoon  the  steamer  turned  her  face 
southward,  and  in  three  days  Roger  had  reached 
Savannah. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MIDNIGHT. 

tEN.  LAWSON  was  safe  from  capture  after 
Sherman  had  marched  from  Savannah,  but 
his  exposure  to  the  chilhng  weather  of  December 
had  brought  on  a  severe  attack  of  pneumonia, 
which  had  left  him  greatly  weakened  and  with  a 
fearful  cough.  It  became  evident  to  him  and  to 
all  that  his  last  campaign  was  nearing  its  end. 
He  had  made  good  preparation  for  that  end,  and 
the  ministrations  of  his  sweet,  Christian  wife  and 
dear  daughter  made  the  evening  as  bright  as  it 
could  be.  But  O  for  Roger!  Could  he  but  see 
him  once  more.  He  had  no  word  from  him  for  a 
month,  and  yet  he  could  not  but  look  toward  the 
door  as  if  hoping  his  boy  would  enter  it.  He  was 
declining  rapidly,  that  was  evident.  Wife  and 
child  and  friend  alike  knew  that  the  strong  man 
was  now  near  his  end.  The  mind  was  bright,  the 
heart  was  brave,  but  the  poor  body  was  no  longer 
a  fit  tenement  for  the  man.  When  Roger  reached 
Savannah    he   found   every    railway   torn    up,  no 

steamer  going   southward,   and  his   only  hope  of 

(185) 


l86  THE   BOY  IN   GRAY. 

reaching  home  was  to  buy  a  mule  and  to  ride 
through  the  country.  He  was  able  to  make  the 
purchase  without  difficulty,  and  began  his  weari- 
some journey.  He  was  fifty  miles  from  home,  and 
night  was  near  at  hand  before  he  could  begin  his 
journey,  but  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  he  started 
'homeward.  All  night  long  he  rode.  The  next 
morning  he  was  still  ten  miles  awa}^  from  home. 
The  mule  was  weary,  but  the  rider  forgot  he 
could  get  weary  himself.  He  stopped  at  a  house 
long  enough  to  give  his  mule  some  food  and  eat 
a  morsel  himself,  and  then  began  his  journey 
again.  He  was  slowly  making  his  way  over  the 
sand  beds  when  he  heard  a  voice  that  he  thought 
he  knew,  of  one  who  was  giving  out  a  hymn  and 
singing  the  words  he  repeated.  He  had  often 
heard  Jack  sing.  Jack  was  so  absorbed  in  his 
sono;  that  he  did  not  notice  the  stranger  who  had 
just  caught  sight  of  him  until  they  were  face  to 
face,  and  Roger  said:    "Jack!  Jack!  " 

"Lord,  have  messy!  Lord,  have  messy!  A 
spirit,  a  spirit!  Mass  Roger's  spirit."  He  was 
too  frightened  to  run,  but  he  covered  his  eyes  in 
terror. 

"Jack,  don't  you  know  me?  I  am  not  dead. 
I  am  no  spirit." 

"  Mass  Roger,  is  you  sure  you's  not  dead?" 


MIDNIGHT.  187 

"  Feel  m}^  hand  and  see,  Jack." 

"  Bless  de  Lord!  Bless  de  Lord  !  Mass  Roger, 
you's  come  in  time.     Ole  Massa  is  still  a  libbin." 

"Jack,  get  off  3'our  mule  and  take  mine.  I 
must  not  wait." 

Jack  dismounted  and  Roger  put  the  young  mule 
up  to  his  best  speed.  Before  he  reached  his  home, 
however,  he  realized  the  wisdom  of  preparing 
them  for  his  coming,  and  so  he  restrained  his 
eagerness  and  paused  long  enough  at  Mrs.  John 
Jones's  to  get  her  to  go  before  him. 

Well,  I  cannot  lift  the  veil,  I  cannot  describe 
the  meetinf^.  The  brave  soldier  as  he  sat  in  the 
warm  sunshine  of  later  January,  looking  for  death 
with  a  fearless  eye,  now  looked  upon  the  face  of 
him  he  had  not  hoped  to  see  again  in  this  world. 

A  week  afterward  a  sad  company  surrounded 
the  grave  at  the  old  Medway  Church,  where  be- 
side his  ancestors  Gen.  Lawson  was  laid  to  sleep. 
He  had  passed  over  the  river  to  rest  under  the 
shade  of  the  trees.  The  night  before  he  passed, 
he  said:  "I  have  lost  all  but  my  religion."  As 
death  came  his  mind  wandered  a  little  and  he  was 
ordering  his  troops  in  battle,  and  then  joyously 
said,  "  We've  won,  we've  won,"  and  sunk  to 
sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


BEGINNING  ANEW. 


^jtf^HE  almost  heart-broken  wife  leaned  upon  the 
^  remaining  arm  of  her  loving  boy  as  she  walked 
sadly  from  the  old  graveyard  where  for  more  than 
a  hundred  3^ears  her  kinspeople  had  been  laid 
away.  The  family  carriage  had  been  left  by  the 
raiders,  and  in  it  the  sad  family  made  their  way 
back  to  their  pine  woods  home. 

The  troubles  of  life  are  sometimes  unmixed  evil, 
and  men  and  women  are  sometimes  turned  to  stone 
by  them ;  but  there  are  those  who  suffer  and  are 
blessed,  for  they  look  through  every  cloud  and  see 
the  light,  and  thus  did  the  saintly  woman ;  and  to 
such  as  she  was  trials  are  only  tonics  to  the  soul. 
They  learn  to  rejoice  while  they  weep. 

Helen  and  Roger  were  young  and  brave,  and 
their  tender  love  for  their  mother  kept  them  from 
idle  lamentation.  "  Lawson  Place  "  was  in  ashes, 
its  chimneys  as  thousands  of  others  stood  as  monu- 
ments of  the  needless  cruelty  of  a  pitiless  soldier  to 
a  helpless  people,  and  all  that  the  family  owned  was 

swept  away.     Roger  felt  that  he  was  now  to  face 

•     (1«8) 


BEGINNING   ANEW.  1 89 

another  foe  more  fearful  than  any  he  had  met  be- 
fore. The  land  about  him  was  desolate,  a  great 
social  revolution  was  impending.  He  had  girded 
himself  for  the  conflict.  Mr.  Jones,  whom  his 
father  had  trusted  so  fully,  and  whom  he  had 
found  so  faithful,  was  still  manager.  Roger 
and  Helen,  however,  decided  that  some  imme- 
diate change  must  be  made,  and  Mr.  Jones  was 
called  into  consultation.  The  case  was  a  some- 
what alarming  one.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  ne- 
groes were  to  be  fed,  and  there  was  no  corn 
or  bacon,  and  but  a  small  supply  of  rice,  with 
which  to  feed  them.  Something  must  be  done, 
and  at  once,  or  they  would  starve.  To  farm  when 
there  were  no  mules  or  plow  horses  was  impossi- 
ble. To  attempt  to  make  another  crop  where  they 
were  was  foil}'. 

Mr.  Jones  said:  "Well,  Mr.  Roger  and  Miss 
Helen,  its  no  use  to  say  we  is  in  a  bad  fix — a  kind 
of  delemmer,  as  Parson  Prescott  used  to  say — and 
we  can't  do  nothin'  but  do  the  best  we  kin.  So  I've 
been  a  thinkin'  that  we  had  better  git  the  hands  back 
to  '  Lawson  Place'  as  soon  as  possible.  Their 
cabins  is  left ;  them  yanks  never  left  nothin'  but  the 
graveyard  and  the  nigger  houses.  The  niggers  all 
know  how  to  make  rice  with  a  hoe,  and  while  we 
can't  do  much  for  'em,  they  is  less  likely  to  starve 


190  THE    BOY   IN   GRAY. 

down  on  Medway  and  the  salts  than  here.  The  fact 
is,  them  yanks  are  obleeged  to  feed  these  niggers. 
We  can't  do  it.  Now  if  you  think  the  nigger  ain't 
gwine  to  be  free,  you've  got  some  property  yit, 
but,  to  my  seein',  a  nigger  hain't  worth  more  than 
a  poor  white  man,  and  a  powerful  onery  one  at 
that." 

"  I  fully  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Jones,  and  I  think 
we  had  better  begin  the  move  at  once.  The  peo- 
ple may  run  away  to  the  Sea  Islands  and  the  army 
at  Savannah,  but  better  that  than  starvation." 

So  all  the  slaves  were  sent  to  their  old  home, 
except  a  few  who  were  left  at  "Pine  Lodge." 
Mr.  Jones  turned  them  over  at  "  Lawson  Place  " 
to  their  respective  drivers,  and  returned  to  his 
home  in  the  pine  woods.  Roger  sent  them  every 
week  from  the  rapidly  exhausting  granary  what 
food  he  could,  but  it  was  evident  that  this  could 
not  continue  long.  The  effort  to  make  anything 
more  than  a  small  crop  of  provisions  was  aban- 
doned, and  the  family  was  reduced  to  the  neces- 
sity of  living  in  the  narrowest  way.  The  parched 
potato  gave  them  a  substitute  for  coffee ;  rice 
and  sweet  potatoes  w^ere  the  breadstuff.  A  little 
bacon  was  scantily  dealt  out  once  or  twice  a  week, 
and  there  was  a  chicken  now  and  then,  a  catfish 
caught  by  old  Jack  in  his  trap,  a  mess  of  bream 


BEGINNING   ANEW.  I9I 

caught  by  Roger  in  the  pond  near  by,  and  so  the 
family  was  kept  from  real  want;  but  there  was 
great  stringency  and  much  privation. 

At  last  it  was  all  over.  Gen.  Lee  surrendered. 
A  few  weeks  afterwards  Johnston  followed, 
and  then  the  collapse  came.  Roger  was  not  sur- 
prised when  it  did.  "Thank  God!  "  Roger  said 
when  he  heard  it,  "the  negroes  won't  starve 
now." 

"  Well,  maybe  they  will  not.     They  freed  them ; 
now  they  will  feed  them." 

Old  Jack,  young  Jack,  Aunt  Judy,  and  Chloe 
only  now  remained  on  the  place.  The  mule  Roger 
had  bought  and  the  two  mules  Jack  had  confiscated 
were  the  stock  which  was  left  behind,  and  now 
there  was  coming  into  han-est  a  field  of  oats,  which 
with  the  rice  straw  and  pea  vines,  furnished  suffi- 
cient forage  to  keep  them  in  working  order.  Two 
bags  of  what  is  called  in  the  South  "long  cotton," 
a  variety  of  that  which  is  known  as  "  Sea  Island," 
had  escaped  the  torch  by  being  hid  in  the  swamp, 
and  Roger  with  young  Jack  went  to  Savannah  on 
the  wagon  to  dispose  of  them.  The}^  brought  a 
very  large  price.  The  two  bags,  weighing  six  hun- 
dred pounds,  brought  $500,  which  Roger  received 
in  greenbacks,  but  when  people  had  been  paying 
$30  per  yard  for  calico  and  $30  a  pound  for  coffee, 


192  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

to  buy  calico  for  thirty  cents  and  bacon  for  twenty 
cents  and  coffee  for  fifty  cents  seemed  almost 
cheap.  He  bought  a  cask  of  bacon,  some  flour, 
loaf  sugar,  delicious  tea,  and  articles  necessary  for 
the  ladies'  apparel,  and  the  wagon  as  heavily  loaded 
as  was  safe  returned  to  the  place.  The  negroes 
on  the  plantation  reported  to  the  Freedman's  Bu- 
^  reau,  and  had  rations  issued  until  they  could  get  a 
crop  made. 

When  Roger  began  to  look  into  the  condition  of 
his  father's  affairs,  he  found  that  he  was  a  penni- 
less heir. 

There-  was  the  Medway  property,  devastated 
and  mortgaged  to  its  full  value ;  the  "  Pine  Grove  " 
property,  devastated  and  mortgaged  to  its  full 
value;  the  Rosevelt  Factory  stock,  worthless;  the 
State  of  Georgia  Bank  stock,  worthless;  the  At- 
lantic and  Gulf  Railroad  stock,  w^orthless;  fifty 
thousand  dollars  of  Confederate  bonds,  worthless; 
fifty  thousand  dollars  Confederate  money  for  last 
year's  crop  of  rice,  worthless;  twenty  thousand 
dollars  Georgia  treasury  notes,  w^orthless.  On 
the  other  hand  every  debt  his  father  owed  must  be 
paid  if  there  was  means  to  pay  it  with.  He  had 
looked  over  the  papers,  and  he  said  with  rather  a 
faint  smile:  "Well,  my  girl,  we've  'Ivy  Bush' 
left  if  we  could  get  there." 


BEGINNING  ANEW.  I93' 

"Well,  why  not  'Ivy  Bush?'"  said  Helen. 
"Yes,  why  not?" 

Roger  at  first  thought  of  attempting  to  recover 
what  was  lost.  They  had  the  plantations  in  pos- 
session. The  negroes  were  there.  Mr.  Harris 
might  be  able  to  furnish  the  money  to  begin 
again;  but  if  he  had  any  such  hope,  it  was  soon 
dispelled  by  a  letter  from  Messrs  Harris  &  Sons. 
They  wrote  him  that  Messrs.  Fall,  Daniel  &  Son 
had  written  them  with  reference  to  the  mortgage, 
that  the  old  Quaker  refused  any  extension  of  time, 
and  that  if  the  mortgage,  principle  and  interest,  was 
not  paid  by  November  i,  steps  for  foreclosure 
should  at  once  be  taken. 

Roger  looked  a  little  depressed,  but  clear-headed 
Helen  said:  "  This  is  best.  We  never  could  have 
made  enough  to  have  paid  that  mortgage,  and  we 
must  now  be  content  to  be  what  God  in  his  provir 
dence  says  we  should  be :  to  be  poor.  We  will 
go  to  '  Ivy  Bush.'  " 

"  If  we  can  get  there,"  said  her  brother.  "  It  has 
been  three  years  since  you  heard  from  there  at  all. 
I  don't  suppose  the  place  has  run  away,  though." 

"No;   papa  put  old  man  Durham  in  the  place 

when  he  resolved  to  go  the  war,  and  I  suppose  he 

is  there  still.     But  we  have  not  been  able  to  hear 

from  him  for  three  years." 
13 


194  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

"  Well,  we  are  a  fixture  here  for  the  next  six 
months,  until  matters  are  settled  here,  and  then 
we  will  start  again  and  live  anew  at  'Ivy  Bush.' 
God  has  been  very  good  to  us  in  saving  us  from 
any  suffering  thus  far,  but  w^hen  I  think  of  how 
helpless  I  am  and  how  little  I  know,  and  think  of 
mamma  and  you,  I  get  a  little  despondent." 

"  You  worry  about  us.  You  forget,  young  man, 
I  am  your  elder  sister,  and  have  taken  pretty  good 
care  of  myself  in  the  past." 

"And  so  you  have  of  all  the  rest,  but  I  ought 
not  to  let  the  load  fall  on  you  so  heavily." 

"When  1  complain,  you  may  sympathize.  If 
Bob  had  not  run  away  with  our  silver  and  my 
jewels,  we  at  least  might  have  had  something  to 
have  set  us  up  in  housekeeping." 

"Well,  we  will  be  about  as  well  off  in  that  re- 
spect as  most  of  our  neighbors  in  Habersham." 

The  Federal  soldiers  were  gradually  withdrawn 
from  the  country,  and  people  were  adjusting  "them- 
selves to  the  new  condition  of  things  under  which 
they  were.  When  the  last  soldier  from  Libert}^ 
was  gone,  and  things  had  settled  down  to  the  calm 
repose  of  other  days,  old  Jack  seemed  to  feel 
greatly  relieved.  Roger  thought  maybe  he  was 
relieved  because  the  confiscation  of  the  two  mules 
by  young  Jack   had   escaped   discovery,    but    he 


BEGINNING   ANEW.  I95 

found  there  was  another  cause.  One  evening 
after  supper  Jack  came  to  the  back  door,  and 
called  for  Roger:  "  Mass  Roger,  I  want  you  and 
Miss  Helen  to  leab  ole  Miss  wid  Judy,  and  come 
'long  wid  me. 

"  Well,  Jack,  where  are  you  going?  " 
"  Nebber  you  min' ;  you  come  'long  wid  me." 
Young  Jack  was  at  the  back  door,  with  a  spade 
and  a  mattock.  The  old  man  had  a  pine  torch. 
He  lit  it,  and  led  the  group  into  the  recesses  of 
the  swamp.  He  passed  the  magnolia  tree  under 
which  something  like  a  grave  appeared,  and  mut- 
tered to  himself:  "  Dat  nigger  fool  one  time." 
Striking  out  into  the  wood  by  an  obscure  path,  he 
paused  at  last  where  there  was  a  fallen  tree  of 
small  size.  He  looked  in  several  directions,  then 
he  turned  to  3'oung  Jack,  and  said:  "Now  3'ou 
roll  back  dat  log."  He  did  so.  "  Now  you  dig 
right  dar."  He  did  so.  As  he  dug  old  Jack 
threw  the  dirt  aside  with  his  spade.  At  last 
Jack's  mattock  struck  something.  "  Dat's  it," 
said  the  old  man.  The  dirt  was  thrown  out,  and 
old  Jack  and  his  son  raised  out  from  the  grave  in 
which  he  had  buried  it  the  hair-covered  trunk. 

"  Poor  Massa  never  know  dat  rascal  Bob.  He 
truss  him;  I  no  truss  him.  Bob  run  away  with  de 
yankee  man,  I  slip  here  and  dig  up  de  trunk  and 


196  THE   BOY  IN   GRAY. 

bury  him  ergin.  Bob  come  get  him;  Bob  no  find 
him.  I  tell  nobody  till  yankee  man  get  gone.  All 
de  tings  here,  just  like  Massa  put  em."  The 
faithful  old  man  had  been  afraid  to  tell  any  human 
being  of  his  secret  till  he  knew  that  all  danger 
was  past. 

The  trunk  was  carried  carefully  home.  It  had 
not  been  injured,  and  the  contents  were  not  at  all 
affected.  In  it  was  the  family  silver:  urn,  coffee- 
pot, teapot,  cups,  spoons,  the  old  watches,  and 
diamonds.  It  was  old  time  silver,  when  silverware 
was  known  as  plate,  and  when  over  a  hundred 
dollars  was  often  paid  for  a  cup  richly  chased,  or 
a  tea  urn.  There  too  was  the  deed  made  to  "  Ivy 
Bush."  and  the  will  of  Roger  Lawson. 

It  was  impossible  to  get  to  "  Ivy  Bush  "  during 

the  summer  of  1865,  and  Roger  remained  at  home, 

settling  up  his  father's   affairs  as  best  he  could. 

A  letter  to  Durham  failed  to  elicit  any  reply,  and 

Roger  wrote  to   his  old.  friend.   Squire    Bass,  of 

whom  he  had  not  heard  in  four  years.     It  took  a 

letter   a  long  time   to   get  to   Clarksville,  for  the 

mail  service  was  but  slowly  restored,   and  it  was 

toward  winter  when  he  received  this  astounding 

reply : 

Near  Clarksville,  Dec.  i,  1S65. 

il/)'  Dear  Roger:  I  was  glad  to  hear  from  you.     The  Lord 

has  been  mighty  good  to  mc  and  mv  oUl  Moman  and   feems, 


BEGINNING  ANEW.  I97 

and  we  is  all  back  agin.  Jeems  was  wounded  pretty  bad  in  the 
fight  before  Knoxville,  but  he's  pretty  nigh  over  it,  though  his 
leg  troubles  him  jit.  You  writ  about  "  Ivy  Bush."  Well,  I  am 
sorry  to  say  old  Bob  Durham  is  thar  yit,  and  he  says  he's  a  gwine 
to  stay  thar.  He  says  what  I  know's  a  lie:  that  he  bought  the 
place  from  your  pappy,  and  is  got  a  deed.  He's  got  a  deed,  for 
I  seed  it;  and  it  was  signed  by  your  pappy,  he  says.  Well,  its 
got  his  name  to  it,  and  it  looks  like  he  writ  it;  bvit  I  don't  think 
he  did.  The  last  time  he  was  here  he  told  me  he  had  give  this 
place  to  your  mother,  and  I  know  he  wern't  the  man  to  go  back 
on  his  word.  I  am  afeered  old  Bob  is  a  gwine  to  give  vou 
trouble,  but  you  can  count  on  me  and  Jeems  a  standing  by  you. 
The  Durham  boys  deserted  the  army,  and  jined  the  bush- 
whackers in  Tennessee.  They  are  back  here  now,  and  the 
country  hain't  no  better  for  their  being  in  it.  Old  Bob  Durham 
drinks  a  power,  and  the  boys  is  no  doubt  making  blockade 
whisky,  but  the  revenues  don't  try  to  catch  up  with  'em.  I 
think  you  had  better  come  up  here  as  soon  as  you  kin  git  here. 
The  longer  this  thing  is  put  off  the  more  trouble  thar  will  be. 
We  have  had  hard  times  up  here,  and  they  is  hard  yit.  The 
boys  didn't  git  back  in  time  to  pitch  a  good  crap,  but,  thank 
God,  we  haven't  starved,  and  we  hain't  a  gwine  to.  Give  a 
heap  of  howdy  to  Helen  and  your  mother  from  me  and  my  old 
woman  and  Jeems. 

Your  true  friend,  James  Bass. 

Roger  read  the  letter  with  mingled  feelings  of 
astonishment  and  indignation.  It  was  evident  that, 
taking  advantage  of  the  war  times  and  the  long 
distance  which  separated  the  parties,  and  hoping 
that  death  would  assist  them  in  their  schemes,  a 
plot  had  been  entered  into  to  rob  them  of  their 
summer  place.     Roger  knew  enough  of  the  slow 


198  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

processes  of  law  and  of  its  uncertainties  not  to  feel 
concerned.  He  handed  the  letter  silently  to  Helen. 
When  she  read  it  her  cheek  flushed;  but,  looking 
at  her  brother  and  seeing  the  evidences  of  great 
anxiety  in  his  face,  she  calmly  said;  "God  still 
lives,  and  he  will  not  allow  this  robbery.  We  will 
find  some  way  out  of  this  trouble  too." 

"  I  know  that  Vv^e  will,  but  I  am  annoyed  at  the 
distress  that  it  will  give  poor  mamma." 

"Why  need  she  to  know  anything  of  it?  We 
can  keep  it  to  ourselves." 

"Yes,  and  we  will  do  so.  It  is  evident  that 
nothinjj  can  be  done  now.  It  is  difficult  to  iiet  to 
Habersham.  I  cannot  leave  mother.  There  is 
little  hope  of  doing  anything  on  the  farm  if  we 
could  get  possession  of  it  this  season.  So  will  let 
the  matter  rest  till  summer." 

The  two  children  went  out  unto  the  room  of 
their  mother.  Never  demonstrative,  but  always 
tender  and  thoughtful,  she  was  thinking  for  others. 
When  they  came  they  found  that  she  had  opened 
the  trunk  and  had  placed  on  the  table  the  articles 
that  it  contained.  There  were  one  teapot,  one 
coffee  urn,  one  punch  bowl,  one  salver,  one  sugar 
bowl,  twelve  large  tablespoons,  twelve  dessert 
spoons,  twelve  teaspoons,  one  soup  tureen  and 
ladle,    one    large    pitcher,    one    flagon,    one-half 


BEGINNING   ANEW.  1 99 

dozen  goblets,  and  sundry  other  pieces  of  heavy- 
solid  silver.  These  pieces  of  silver  had  descended 
from  the  Maxwells  and  Lawsons,  and  had  the 
court  of  arms  of  each  family  on  them.  There 
was  a  diamond  brooch,  a  pair  of  diamond  brace- 
lets, a  pearl  necklace,  and  some  beautiful  rings 
set  with  diamonds,  sapphires,  and  pearls.  As  the 
children  came  in  she  said  to  them:  "I  am  tak- 
ing a  little  list  of  these  things,  and  a  last  look  at 
them.  After  your  dear  father's  death  I  determined 
to  have  the  plate  on  my  table  no  more,  and  now 
that  my  children  need  the  money  which  it  will  sell 
for,  I  am  anxious  for  it  to  be  sold." 

The  children  were  at  first  disposed  to  demur, 
but  it  was  too  evidently  the  thing  that  ought  to  be 
done  for  them  to  hesitate,  and  so  it  was  decided 
that  Roger  should  take  it  to  Mr.  Hamilton,  the 
Savannah  jeweler,  and  place  it  in  his  hands  to  be 
disposed  of.  Helen  insisted  that  her  jewels  should 
be  sold  too. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SOME   UNLOOKED-FOR  EVENTS. 

^^HE  next  day  Roger,  with  young  Jack  and  the 
^  wagon  in  which  was  the  trunk  of  plate,  began 
his  journey  to  Savannah,  which  he  reached  in  due 
time.  The  war  was  virtually  over ;  but  the  country 
was  still  under  military  rule,  and  the  cities  in  charge 
of  provost  marshals.  To  see  the  colored  troops  in 
blue  uniform  parading  the  streets  of  Savannah,  and 
to  be  forced  to  submit  his  papers  to  their  examina- 
tion, was  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  a  high-spirited 
young  Southerner  like  Roger,  and  when  to  all  this 
was  added  the  fact  of  a  lost  cause  and  lost  fortunes, 
and  above  all  of  a  lost  father,  the  cup  was  sufficient- 
ly full  of  bitterness. 

Roger  had  little  now  to  do  than  to  deposit  the 
plate  with  his  mother's  old  jeweler,  and  to  re- 
quest him  to  do  the  best  that  he  could  with  it, 
and  to  call  on  Col.  Floyd,  who  was  his  father's 
counselor  at  law,  and  consult  him  about  the  "Ivy 
Bush  "  matter.  He  called  at  the  office  of  the  wise 
attorney,  and  told  him  the  condition  of  affairs  at 

"Ivy  Bush."     Roger  showed  him  Squire  Bass's 
(200) 


SOME  UNLOOKED-FOR  EVENTS.        20I 

letter,  and  when  the  Colonel  read  it  he  looked 
thoughtful:  "  Well,  Captain,  I  am  sure  that  your 
case  is  a  good  one,  and  in  time  you  can  oust  these 
intruders,  but  the  times  are  out  of  joint.  The 
courts  are  not  in  good  working  order,  and  it  is 
certain  that  you  cannot  trust  a  jury  now.  Old 
Durham  has  evidently  quite  a  following.  He 
seems  to  be  a  Unionist.  His  sons  were  in  the 
Federal  army,  and  he  has  a  deed;  forged  as  it  is, 
it  is  a  deed,  and  has  been  admitted  to  record,  and 
the  best  thing  that  you  can  do  is  to  do  nothing  now. 
Write  to  Col.  Billups,  who  was  in  the  army  with 
your  father  and  is  a  good  lavN^er,  to  keep  an  eye 
on  old  Durham,  and  see  to  it  that  no  sale  of  the 
place  is  made  to  an  innocent  purchaser,  and  wait 
for  developments." 

This  was  in  accord  with  Roger's  own  ideas  of 
what  was  best,  and  so  he  went  back  to  the  home 
in  Liberty  to  wait.  He  carried  with  him  from  the 
colonel's  office  sundry  law  books  which  he  in- 
tended to  study  under  his  direction,  that  he  might 
get  ready  for  admission  to  the  bar. 

In  the  Savannah  Press  of  May  31  appeared  this 
advertisement: 

FAMILY   PLATE   AT   A   SACRIFJCBi 

A  planter's  wife  who  has  lost  her  property^  and  who  has 
been  bereft  of  her  husband,  offers  a  beautiful  let  of  silverware 


202  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

and  some  beautiful  old  time  jewelry  for  sale  at  a  great  sacrifice. 
Apply  to  Hamilton  &  Co.,  41  Broughton  Street. 

A  Federal  colonel  was  smoking  in  the  office  of 
the  commandant,  and  a  young  adjutant  was  read- 
ing the  morning  paper.  The  advertisement  caught 
his  eye.  "Hey,  colonel!  here  is  something  the 
bummers  did  not  get.  Pride  has  its  fall.  I  see  these 
haughty  dames,  who  toss  their  pretty  heads  at  us, 
have  to  come  down  at  last,"  and  he  read  the  ad- 
vertisement. "  Say,  colonel,  let  us  go  down  and 
look  at  it,  and  if  it  is  cheap  I  believe  Til  get  it  for 
my  girl  in  Maine." 

The  colonel  did  not  seem  to  enter  into  the  spirit 
of  the  thoughtless  subordinate,  but  quietly  arose 
and  said:    "Well,  come  on." 

Mr.  Hamilton  brought  out  the  plate.  "  There 
are,"  he  said,  "  two  crests  here — the  Maxwells 
and  the  Lawsons.  They  were  of  our  oldest  and 
best  families  in  Liberty  County,  but  Gen.  Lawson 
was  wounded  and  died  and  the  old  home  was 
burned  down,  and  his  wife  was  forced  to  sell. 
The  plate  is  of  the  highest  grade  of  crown  silver." 

"  The  Maxwells  and  Lawsons,  of  Liberty  Coun- 
ty, did  you  say? ' 

"Yes." 

"  Was  this  lady  the  mother  of  Capt.  Roger  Law- 
son?" 


SOME  UNLOOKED-FOR  EVENTS.        203 

"Yes.     He  put  the  plate  in  my  hands." 

"What  is  it  worth?" 

"Well,  I  ought  to  get  $i,ooo  for  the  lot;  and 
for  these  jewels  I  got  when  I  sold  them  to  her 
father  $500  more.  I  might  take  less,  as  they  are 
in  such  need,  but  they  are  richly  worth  that." 

"Mr.  Jeweler,"  said  the  adjutant,  "say  $500 
•  for  the  lot." 

"No;  I  w^ill  try  to  do  better  than  that." 

"  Weil,  I'll  give  that,  but  no  more." 

They  w^ent  quietly  out  of  the  store,  but  in  an 
hour's  time  an  orderly  came  back  to  the  store  with 
this  note: 

Dear  Sir:  Inclosed  find  check  for  $1,500  in  full  payment  of 
the  plate  and  jewelry  shown  me  this  morning.  Send  the  goods 
by  the  bearer. 

The  next  mail  to  "  Pine  Lodg^e  "  brou^rht  Roj^er 
and  Helen  a  surprising  letter. 

Capt.  Roger  Lawson. 

My  Dear  Sir:  The  day  after  you  left  the  plate  in  my  charge 
a  young  yankee  colonel  came  in  and  bought  the  whole  of  it. 
He  had  it  sent  to  his  office.  His  name  I  do  not  know.  The 
money  is  to  your  credit  in  the  Central  Railroad  Bank. 

Hamilton  &  Co. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

HOW   BOB  DURHAM   LOST   HIS  CASE. 

^^HE  times  were  truly  out  of  joint.     There  was 

^     first  the  government  of  Georgia  as  it  has  been 

for  a  hundred  years,  but  it  only  stood  a  few  months. 

Then    the  provisional  government,   and  then  the 

military  government.     They  came  in   such  rapid 

succession  that  one  was  scarcely  able  to  locate  the 

govermuent   before    it    was  gone.     There  was  a 

breaking    up    of   everything,  and    in    no    part    of 

Georgia  were  things  more  mixed  than  in  that  part 

of  the  State  which   bordered   on   North  Carolina 

and  Tennessee.     Here  alone,  as  far  as  Georgia 

was  concerned,  it  was  that  the  loyalist  element  had 

much   influence,  but  here  it  did.     Some  law3^ers 

of  real  parts  were  avowed  radicals,  and  many  of 

the  people. 

Col.  McNiel  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  what  the 

old  Confederates  scornfully  called  "  Hogbacks." 

He  was  hand  in  glove  with  the  moonshiners,  who 

were   themselves  on  the  best   of   terms  with  the 

revenue  men.     The  Colonel  had  drawn  up,  he  said, 

the  deed  to  "Ivy  Bush"  by  which  Bob  Durham 

held  it.     Col.  Billups  knew  all  these  people,  and 
(204) 


HOW   BOB   DURHAM   LOST    HIS    CASE.  205 

was  on  as  good  terms  with  them  as  a  Confederate 
colonel  could  be  with  Union  men.  Some  he  knew 
were  honest,  but  some  he  knew  were  thoroughly 
unscrupulous.  He  was  too  wise  to  act  precipi- 
tately, so  he  advised  Roger  to  remain  quietly  at 
"Pine  Lodge"  until  he  sent  for  him,  and  kept 
his  eyes  wide  open.  At  length,  in  March  of  1866, 
he  wrote  Roger  to  come  on  to  Clarksville  as  soon 
as  possible.  The  court  was  near  its  spring  term. 
Old  Bob  Durham  had  decided  to  sell  out,  and 
was  about  to  trade  with  a  man  from  over  the  line 
in  Tennessee.  Issue  must  be  made  at  once,  and 
Roger  must  be  there  to  secure  possession,  if  pos- 
session could  be  secured. 

When  Roger  reached  Clarksville  he  found  the 
Basses  ready  to  welcome  him,  and  his  old  friend, 
Andy  Rhodes,  was  back  in  his  old  haunts.  They 
had  been  in  the  army  together.  When  Andy  was 
seriously  sick  in  the  mountains  Roger  had  nursed 
him  as  tenderly  as  a  brother.  Andy  had  an  eighth 
part  of  Indian  blood  in  his  veins.  He  feared  noth- 
ing but  work.  He  was  the  only  man  in  Haber- 
sham the  Durhams  were  really  afraid  of,  and  it 
was  a  rather  good  thing  for  Roger  that  Andy  was 
his  friend. 

When  Roger  reached  Clarksville  he  had  an  in- 
terview with  Col.  Billups. 


206  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

Matters  were  a  little  squally.  Old  Durham  had 
the  deed,  McNiel  drew  it  up,  the  witnesses  were 
dead,  Durham  was  about  to  sell,  and  he  and  his 
sons  swore  vengeance  against  any  man  who  dis- 
turbed their  right  of  possession.  It  would  never 
do  to  have  the  matter  before  a  jury,  with  McNiel 
to  persuade  it  and  the  Durhams  to  frighten  it. 
He  must  try  another  course.  Roger  was  to  be 
quiet,  and  simply  wait. 

"Say,  Billups,"  said  McNiel,  "it  is  a  poor 
business  to  molest  that  poor  old  man,  Durham.  I 
drew  the  deed  myself,  and  old  Bob  paid  his  hard- 
earned  money  for  the  land.  He  has  held  it  for  four 
years,  and  it's  too  late  for  this  youngster  to  pretend 
the  property  was  given  to  his  mother.  You  had 
just  as  well  let  it  drop." 

"Well,  Dick,  maybe  you  are  right.  Anywa}^, 
you  get  the  deed  and  bring  it  to  my  office,  where 
I  will  meet  you;  and  bring  old  Bob  there,  and  I 
will  get  my  young  client,  and  we  wdll  see  if  we 
can't  settle  it." 

So  old  Bob  and  Col.  McNiel  and  Col.  Billups 
and  Roger  met  in  the  office,  and  with  them  came 
Andy  Rhodes.  Col.  Billups  told  him  he  must  be 
on  hand,  and  ready  for  work,  if  work  was  needed. 
Andy  knew  what  that  meant,  and  as  he  buckled 
on  his  cavalry  belt  he  looked  a  little  carefully  at 


HOW  BOB   DURHAM    LOST   HIS   CASE.  207 

the  cartridges  in  his  navy  shooter,  and  put  on 
some  fresh  caps. 

The  little  group  were  evidently  intensely  in 
earnest. 

"Now,  Col.  Billups,  I  drew  this  deed;  didn't 
I,  Bob?" 

"Yes,  that  you  did,  Squire,  and  Bob  Wortham 
and  Tom  Hughes  both  witnessed  it.  It  was  just 
before  Maj.  Lawson  left  here  for  the  army.  He 
come  up  here  to  fix  things,  and  carry  his  niggers 
back,  and  says  he:  'Mr.  Durham,'  says  he,  'I 
need  some  money,  and  I  don't  think  I'll  ever 
come  back  here  no  more,  and  I'll  sell  you  this 
'ere  place  for  $800  cash  down.'  That's  just  what 
the  deed  says,  ain't  it,  Squire?  And  says  I,  '  I'll 
take  it,'  And,  Squire,  you  drawed  the  deed  and 
seed  me  pay  down  the  money,  didn't  you?  " 

"Yes,  of  course  I  did." 

"And  now  for  em  to  bring  another  deed,  what 
they  say  was  made  a  year  before  this  un,  and  try 
to  git  my  propity  from  me,  hain't  honest,  and  I 
hain't  a  gwine  to  put  up  with  it  nuther.  Thar'll 
be  some  blood  spilt  first." 

"O  well,  Bob!"  said  Col.  Billups  quietly, 
"  nobody  is  going  to  spill  any  blood  about  it.  If 
your  deed  is  good,  it  is  good.  On  the  court  rec- 
ords,  though,  there  is   a   deed  which  was  made 


208  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

a  year  before  this  was,  in  favor  of  Mrs.  Mary 
Lawson." 

"  Yes,  I  know  thar  was,  but  I  did  not  know  it 
when  I  bought  this  property,  and  you  didn't;  did 
you.  Squire?  " 

"No,  of  course  I  did  not.  I  did  not  think 
a  rich  man  Hke  Col.  Lawson  would  rob  a  poor 
countr^^man  out  of  his  honest  earnings." 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  said  Roger,  start- 
ing to  his  feet,  and  clinching  his  fist. 

"Please  be  still,  Mr.  Lawson,"  said  Col.  Bil- 
lups.  "  Suppose,  Dick,  somebody  forged  a  deed, 
and  signed  Lawson's  name  to  it."  Col.  Billups 
had  the  deed  in  his  hand,  and  looked  calmly  in 
McNiel's  eye. 

"Somebody  forged!  Do  you  dare  to  say  I 
forced  it?"  he  hissed  as  he  rose  to  his  feet  and 
reached  for  his  pistol. 

"  Say,  Dick  McNiel,  you  just  sit  there  quiet, 
will  ye,  and  listen  to  Col.  Billups,  or  I'll  put  five 
bullets  into  ye  so  quick  you  won't  have  time 
to  wink."  The  navy  of  Andy  never  missed  fire, 
and  he  never  missed  his  mark.  Old  Bob  had 
started  up,  too,  with  his  pistol  in  his  hand,  but 
Roger's  pistol  warned  him  to  be  still,  and  he 
dropped  his  weapon  and  sunk  into  his  seat. 

"  Yes,  Dick,  you  forged  that  deed,  and  it  is  not 


HOW   BOB    DURHAM   LOST    HIS    CASE.  209 

the  first  by  many,  I  am  afraid.  But  you  were  not 
as  sharp  as  you  thought  you  were.  Your  pre- 
tended witnesses  are  dead,  that  is  true;  the  record 
was  made,  that  is  true;  your  deed  is  dated  1861, 
that  is  true ;  but,  Dick,  you  did  not  get  the  right 
kind  of  paper,  if  you  did  stain  it.  Look  here." 
And  he  held  the  deed  up  to  the  hght,  and  in  the 
body  of  it  one  read:  "  Passaic  Mills,  1865."  The 
telltale  figures  settled  the  case.  The  lawyer, 
cowed  and  pale,  said  nothing. 

"Now,  Dick,  if  this  case  comes  before  Judge 
Knight,  you'll  go  to  the  penitentiary;  but  for  your 
wife's  sake  it  shan't  go  there.  But  you  must  go 
away  from  Clarksville,  and  stay  away,  and  if  so 
I'll  keep  the  secret-  And  now,  Bob  Durham,  3'ou 
old  villain,  if  you  are  not  out  of  "  Ivy  Bush  "  by 
to-morrow  night  you  and  Dick  McNiel  both  will  be 
indicted  for  conspiracy  and  forgery  and  perjury." 

"  Well,  Colonel,  I  was  a  gwine  to  leave  any- 
how. Col.  McNiel  told  me  to  do  just  what  I  did. 
I  didn't  mean  no  harm." 

And  so  "Ivy  Bush"  came  back  to  its  owners. 
14 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

AT  THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  LADDER. 

i^OL.  BILLUPS  had  become  much  interested 
^*-^  in  his  young  friend.  The  father  of  Roger 
had  been  his  brigade  commander  in  Virginia, 
and  there  was  a  warm  affection  between  the 
two  officers;  and  when  Roger  asked  what  he  was 
to  pay  for  his  services,  the  Colonel  refused 
to  receive  any  compensation.  After  Roger  had 
told  him  of  the  loss  of  everything,  and  of  his 
anxiety  to  be  admitted  to  the  bar,  the  Colonel 
said  to  him:  "Well,  apply  now.  You  have  read 
enough  law  to  begin  to  practice,  and  I  am  sure 
you  can  pass  an  approved  examination.  And  as 
you  are  going  to  move  to  this  county,  it  is  best  for 
you  to  be  admitted  in  this  court." 

So  Roger  made  his  application,  and  was  exam- 
ined by  a  committee  of  lawyers.  After  it  was 
over  Judge  Knight  said  to  him:  "  Your  examina- 
tion, Mr.  Lawson,  has  been  very  creditable.  You 
show  an  unusual  acquaintance  with  the  principles 
of  law,  and  are  well  up  in  your  reading.  I  pre- 
dict for  you  a  bright  future." 
(210) 


AT   THE   BOTTOM   OF   THE   LADDER.  211 

The  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  remove  the 
family,  so  Roger  went  to  Liberty.  He  found  his 
father's  old  manager  not  unwilling  to  take  "  Pine 
Lodge  "  in  full  payment  for  all  arrears. 

"The  fact  is,  Mr.  Roger,"  said  the  overseer, 
"  I  mout  have  managed  niggers,  and  I  reckon  I 
did,  pretty  well  when  they  was  niggers;  but  now, 
when  a  nigger  is  a  little  better  than  a  white  man, 
somebody  else  can  git  my  job.  I  am  a  gwine  to 
stay  in  the  pine  woods  and  git  along  without  'em." 

There  were  few  debts  to  pay,  and  the  devasta- 
tion of  Sherman's  army  had  made  it  an  easy  mat- 
ter to  move  what  they  left  behind  them.  Old  Jack 
and  Aunt  Judy,  and  young  Jack  and  Chloe,  and 
Mammy  were  going  to  move  with  the  family. 
*'  The  truth  is,  Missus,"  said  Mammy,  "  I's  been 
takin'  car'  of  you  so  long  I's  just  obleeged  to  go 
wid  you." 

There  were  the  three  mules  and  the  wagon,  and 
Roger  traded  off  some  cows  which  had  escaped 
the  raiders,  and  bought  another  mule.  They  had 
the  carriage  still,  and  the  wagon,  and  the  lighter 
goods  were  loaded  in  the  wagon,  and  the  heavier 
goods  sold;  and  in  their  own  conveyances  they 
made  the  slow  journey  toward  their  new  old 
home.  There  was  still  several  hundred  dollars 
of  the  money  for  which  the  plate  was  sold,  but 


212  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

there  was  quite  a  family  of  helpless  dependents  to 
be  provided  for.  Old  Jack  and  Mammie  had 
done  no  hard  work  for  years,  Aunt  Judy  had  done 
nothing  but  cook,  and  Chloe  was  simply  a  house- 
maid. The  young  readers  of  this  chronicle  have 
read  but  little  if  they  have  not  seen  many  allusions 
to  the  fate  of  the  poor  negroes,  who  gave  two  hun- 
dred years  of  unrequited  labor  to  their  white  mas- 
ters. The  fact  was,  no  race  of  mere  laborers  were 
ever  better  paid,  for  no  race  was  ever  so  universally 
provided  for  as  this  race  was.  The  able-bodied 
were  by  no  means  all  who  were  to  be  fed  and 
clothed,  and  the  consumers  were  always  greatly 
more  numerous  than  the  producers.  To  Roger, 
to  abandon  these  faithful  old  slaves  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  and  so  Mammy  had  her  place  in  the 
carriage  and  old  Jack  on  the  driver's  seat,  as  he 
had  done  in  all  the  years  gone  by.  Old  Squire 
Bass  had  insisted  that  the  family  should  be 
brought  at  once  to  his  home,  and  should  remain 
there  until  the  effects  of  Bob  Durham's  shiftless 
ways  could  be  remedied.  The  warm  greeting  of 
the  motherly  old  woman  was  all  the  more  tender 
because  of  the  sad  changes  which  had  passed 
over  the  home  of  her  friend. 

The  prospect  before  the  brave  young  soldier 
was  not  a  bright  one:   A  farm,  neglected  and  run 


AT  THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE   LADDER.  213 

down;  a  house,  dilapidated,  widi  no  furniture  in 
it;  three  helpless  old  negroes,  and  an  invalid 
mother  and  delicate  sister;  a  profession  just  en- 
tered upon,  and  all  the  way  untried,  v/as  before 
him.  His  heart  grew  somewhat  faint  at  the  pros- 
pect, but  he  could  not  forget  how  God  had  blessed 
them  in  the  past,  and  he  could  trust  him  for  the 
future.  As  they  passed  through  Athens  he  had 
purchased  some  plain  furniture  and  some  needful 
supplies,  for  which  he  was  to  send  the  wagon 
after  the  travelers  had  reached  their  destination. 
While  they  were  waiting  for  these  things,  and 
while  the  servants  were  getting  the  house  in  hab- 
itable shape,  the  little  family  remained  at  the  home 
of  Squire  Bass. 

Up  to  this  time  they  had  not  realized  how 
changed  w^as  their  worldly  condition,  and  now  as 
Roger  saw  himself  a  poor,  dependent,  and  helpless 
man,  while  he  cared  little  for  himself,  he  could  not 
but  feel  great  anxiety  for  his  mother  and  Helen. 
Upon  them  as  5"et  no  real  hardship  had  come,  but 
what  was  now  before  them? 

There  were  no  people  who  faced  the  great 
changes  after  the  war  with  a  braver  heart  than 
many  of  those  v/ho  had  been  brought  up  in  luxury, 
and  on  none  did  the  storm  blow  with  a  fiercer 
blast.     Ro^er  and  Helen  were  not  braver  than  ten 


214  THE  BOY  IN  GRAY. 

thousand  others  who  found  themselves  paupers 
when  they  had  been  princes,  and  Roger  might 
have  despaired  but  for  his  sister's  courage  and  his 
mother's  faith.  Helen  was  never  so  bright  and 
cheery.  The  poor  mother  was  too  sad  at  the  re- 
membrance of  what  had  been  to  consider  the  out- 
side surroundings.  The  only  seriously  discon- 
tented one  was  Aunt  Judy.  She  took  her  venge- 
ance out  on  Chloe,  whom  she  scolded  unmerci- 
fully, and  found  some  relief  in  the  bitterness  with 
which  she  denounced  "  dem  poor  trash  w'at's  bin 
tryin'  to  tief  Master's  place." 

The  wagon,  with  the  plain  poplar  bedsteads,  the 
cheap  washstand  and  bureau,  had  arrived,  and 
then  it  was  sent  over  to  Squire  Bass's  after  the 
bedding,  which  had  been  left  there.  Throwing 
her  palmetto  hat  on  her  curls,  Helen  coiled  herself 
up  on  the  mattresses  and  rode  over  to  "  Ivy  Bush" 
as  joyously  as  a  schoolgii"!. 

"  Bless  her  dear  heart,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  she 
is  just  as  happy  as  if  she  had  not  lost  her  for- 
tune." 

When  the  mother  came  "  Ivy  Bush  "  was  like 
home  again.  The  hardships  of  war  had  been  good 
discipline  for  people  who  were  to  lose  all,  and 
"Pine  Lodge"  had  prepared  the  way  for  "  Ivy 
Bush."     Aunt  Judy  had  seen  to  it  that  the  house 


AT  THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  LADDER.     215 

was  neatly  scoured,  and  Helen  had  made  her 
mother's  chamber  as  cosy  as  a  daughter's  good 
good  taste  could  make.  it.  •  The  honeysuckle  and 
sweet  shrub  sent  their  fragrance  through  the 
chamber,  a  nice  supper  had  been  prepared,  and 
when  James  Bass  brought  over  the  mother  in  the 
afternoon  "  Ivy  Bush  "  looked  like  home  again. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

ROGER   LAWSON,  ATTORNEY  AT  LAW. 

fHE  next  clay  after  the  family  were  snugly 
housed  was  Sunda3^  It  was  the  day  when 
the  circuit  preacher  came  to  his  appointment. 
The  good  mother  was  not  strong  enough  to  go  out 
to  service,  but  Roger  and  Helen  went,  and  Roger 
put  his  Church  certificate  into  the  preacher's  hand 
and  announced  himself  as  ready  for  work.  The 
Sunday  school  had  not  been  organized  for  want  of 
a  superintendent,  and  the  preacher  in  charge  se- 
lected the  young  lawyer  for  the  place.  The  peo- 
ple around  the  church  were  many  of  them  very 
ignorant,  as  they  v/ere  very  poor,  and  Helen  and 
Roger  found  a  large  field  for  an3Mvork  they  wished 
to  do,  and  I  have  always  found  it  to  be  a  fact  that 
if  we  are  willing  to  do  the  work  nearest  to  us  we 
always  find  enough  of  it. 

Col.  Billups  had  kindly  invited  Roger  to  share 
his  office,  and  gave  him  the  use  of  his  books,  and 
proffered  to  give  him  such  instruction  as  an  old 
lawyer  could  give  to  a  J^oung  one.  "  Now,  Law- 
son,"  he  said,  "you  have  just  begun  to  prepare 
(216) 


ROGER   LAWSON,  ATTORNEY  AT   LAW.  217 

for  work.  You  know  enough  law  to  begin  to 
practice,  and  enough  to  begin  the  careful  study. 
You  are  here  in  a  quiet,  retired  country  town,  and 
it  is  little  likely  there  will  ever  be  a  demand  for  a 
knowledge  of  those  subjects  which  have  engaged 
the  best  legal  minds,  but  my  idea  is  that  the  brief- 
less lawyer  of  a  country  village  should  fit  himself 
to  be  the  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States.  I 
have  here  a  library  which,  while  not  large,  has  the 
best  books  in  it.  Some  of  these  came  from  my 
father;  many  of  them  I  have  bought  for  myself. 
I  have  studied  questions  concerning  trusts,  remain- 
ders, tenures,  inheritances  which  I  have  never  met 
with,  and  never  expected  to  meet  with,  but  when  I 
do  meet  with  them  I  am  ready  for  them.  Another 
thing,  when  j^ou  have  a  case  do  not  consider  the 
amount  of  the  fee  nor  the  importance  of  the  case. 
Prepare  as  carefully  for  a  case  before  Squire  Lark- 
ins  as  for  one  before  the  Supreme  Court.  I  am 
not  going  to  take  you  into  partnership,  not  because 
T  am  not  willing  to  divide  practice  with  you,  but 
because  it  will  be  best  for  you  to  win  your  own 
spurs.  If  you  were  to  win  a  case  by  your  labor 
alone,  and  were  my  partner,  I  would  get  the  credit 
for  it;  but  all  I  can  do  for  you  I  v/ill  do.  My  of- 
fice is  yours  and  my  books  are  3'ours,  so  put  up 
your  shingle  and  go  to  work." 


2l8  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

The  young  lawyer  learns  very  soon  that  he  must 
be  patient,  that  there  is  no  easy  way  to  success, 
and  while  Roger  did  not  enjoy  his  want  of  prac- 
tice, he  obeyed  the  Colonel's  counsel,  and  gave 
himself  to  hard  stud}^ 

Old  Jack  took  charge  of  the  farm.  He  could 
not  work  much,  but  he  could  superintend. 

Young  Jack,  had  married  Chloe,  and  taken 
her  to  a  cabin  of  her  own,  where  Aunt  Judy  could 
no  longer  reproach  her  for  her  divers  shortcom- 
ings. Young  Jack  was  the  only  active  worker, 
and  as  it  was  not  likely  that  the  farm  would  do 
much  more  than  pay  its  own  way,  and  as  the  de- 
posit in  the  Central  Railroad  Bank  was  getting 
alarmingly  low,  the  question  of  fees  became  one 
of  real  importance. 

At  last  Roger  got  a  case,  if  not  a  fee.  The 
poor  woman  who  came  to  his  office  was  a  forlorn 
specimen  of  that  class  of  people  known  all  over 
the  South  by  different  names:  sometimes  as 
"  crackers,"  sometimes  as  "  mossbacks,"  some- 
times as  "  sand  lappers,"  and  sometirries  as 
"  poor  whites."  They  were  born  in  poverty  and 
brought  up  in  ignorance.  They  had  alwa3'S 
lived  in  log  cabins,  and  always  on  hard  fare. 
They  were,  many  of  them,  pure,  honest,  kind- 
hearted,  and  in  their  way  religious.     They  were 


ROGliR   LAWSON,   ATTORNEY  AT   LAW.  219 

often  land  owners,  and  not  unfrequently  rose 
from  their  lowly  estate  into  a  higher  place. 
James  Jenkins  was  a  good  specimen  of  this  class. 
He  had  moved  over  from  Anderson,  in  South  Car- 
ohna,  to  Habersham  some  years  before,  and  set- 
tled on  a  little  farm  on  Duke's  Creek.  The  farm 
had  only  forty  acres  in  it,  and  of  these  onl}^  twen- 
ty were  free  from  timber ;  but  it  w^as  productive,  and 
the  plain  man  lived  a  contented  and  an  independent 
life  upon  it.  The  war  broke  out,  and  he  left  the 
farm  to  go  into  the  arm}^  He  took  his  young  wife 
and  her  four  children  to  her  father's,  in  South  Car- 
olina. He  rented  the  farm,  but  the  party  renting 
it  had  gone  away  and  left  it. 

Bill  Hillborn  was  a  land  stealer,  and  when  he 
saw  that  the  place  was  vacated  he  took  possession 
of  it,  and  claimed  it  as  his  own. 

Jenkins  went  with  McMillan's  regim.ent  to  the 
war,  and  there  was  no  braver  man  or  better  sol- 
dier in  Lee's  arm}-;  but  when  Gettysburg  was 
fought,  and  the  shattered  Twenty-fourth  came  off 
the  field,  Jenkins  was  missing.  His  comrades  never 
knew  what  became  of  him.  He  was  abreast  wdth 
the  foremost  in  that  awful  charge  when  they  saw 
him  last.  In  a  grave  marked  "  unknow-n "  he 
sleeps  on  Pennsylvania  soil.  He  never  knew  why 
there  was  a  ,war.     Indeed,  he  hardly  knew  that 


220  THE   BOY  IN   GRAY. 

there  was  a  North.  He  merely  knew,  he  said,  that 
"  Bob  McMillan  was  raisin'  a  rigiment,  and  that  he 
ought  to  fight  for  libbuty,  as  his  granddaddy  had 
done  in  the  Revolution  war." 

Poor  Nancy  Jenkins,  with  her  four  children,  was 
on  her  father's  Httle  farm  in  Anderson,  S.  C,  when 
her  husband  was  killed.  The  war  had  been  two 
years  over  when  her  father  died,  and  she  was 
homeless.  She  got  a  kind  neighbor  to  bring  her 
over  the  mountains  to  her  old  home  in  Georgia. 
When  she  reached  it  she  found  a  stranger  in  the 
cabin.  He  had  rented  it,  he  said,  from  Squire 
Hillborn,  and  had  put  in  his  crops,  and  while  he 
was  mighty  sorry  for  the  poor  woman,  he  could 
not  help  her.  She  could  stay  here  until  she 
could  get  some  satisfaction,  he  said,  and  that  he 
would  go  with  her  to  Clarksville  to  see  a  lawyer 
about  her  rights. 

She  came  to  see  Col.  Billups,  and  told  him  her 
story.  He  had  known  her  husband,  and  he  be- 
lieved her  stor}^,  but  he  told  her  at  once  that  he 
was  the  attorney  for  Hillborn  in  several  important 
cases,  and  could  not  take  the  case,  but  introduced 
her  to  Roger.  "  You  see,"  she  said  to  the  young 
attorney,  "  when  me  and  Jim  was  married  my' 
pappy  give  me  a  hundred  dollars,  and  Jim  had 
made  another  hundred,  and  as  he  had  a  critter  and 


ROGER   LAWSON,    ATTORNEY  AT   LAW.  221 

a  little  waggin  and  I  had  some  things,  we  thought 
that  we'd  strike  out  for  ourselves.  So  weuns  come 
over  here,  and  Mr.  Richardson,  what  is  gone  some- 
whar,  I  don't  know  whar,  but  I  heerd  it  was  to  the 
Alabam,  he  sold  Jim  a  little  plantation  up  on  the 
crick.  Thar  warn't  a  stick  amiss  on  it  when  we 
bought  it,  but  we  went  up  thar  and  built  our  cabin, 
and  was  gittin'  on  right  peart  when  this  here  awful 
war  come  on,  and  he  went  to  the  army,  and  that 
is  the  last  I  ever  seed  of  him.  I  couldn't  write,  and 
I  couldn't  git  back  till  arter  daddy  died,  and  then  I 
had  nowhar  to  go.  I  got  Mr.  Smith  to  bring  me 
here,  and  when  I  got  back  I  found  that  Bill  Hillborn 
said  that  he'd  bought  our  plantation,  and  I  jist 
know  that  he  didn't,  and  I  want  you  to  take  the 
law  on  him,  and  git  it  back  for  me  and  my  chil- 
dren." 

*'Well,  Mrs.  Jenkins,"  said  Roger,  "where  is 
your  deed?  " 

"  The  deed?     What's  that?  " 

"  Why,  the  paper  Mr.  Richardson  gave  your 
husband." 

"Why  no!  I  never  seed  that  arter  Jim  left 
with  Mr.  Richardson  to  go  to  the  Squire's,  but  I 
know  it's  my  land." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  the  deed  was  re- 
corded? " 


222  THE   EOV   IN   GRAY. 

"  Wh}',  I  don't  know  what  3'ou  mean  by  ac- 
corded !  " 

"Recorded!  I  mean,  did  he  give  it  to  the 
clerk?" 

"  I  don't  know.  There  was  two  or  three  clerks 
in  Mr.  Stanford's  store,  where  we  use  to  trade, 
and  he  mout  a  given  it  to  one  of  'em;  but  I  know 
it's  my  Ian'." 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  it  is.  Now  you  go  back 
there  and  stay.  I  think  Mr.  Moore  will  let  you 
stay  on  the  place,  and  I  will  do  my  best  for  you. 
Who  was  the  squire  to  whom  your  husband  went 
when  he  bought  the  land?  " 

"  Why,  Squire  Williams,  in  Nacoochee." 

"Is  he  there  now?  " 

"No;  he's  gone  too." 

"  Do  you  know  where?  " 

"No;  I  hain't  hearn." 

"  Well,  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you,  but  I  can't 
promise  much;  but  you  try  and  stay  on  the 
land." 

The  first  thing  to  do  was  to  see  Hillborn.  This 
land  trader  was  famous  for  his  large  holding  of 
wild  lands.  He  succeeded  in  getting  tract  after 
tract,  and  it  was  rumored  that  his  papers  were 
often  none  of  the  best.  He  was  always  in  court, 
and  often  victorious,  seldom  defeated.     He  was 


ROGER   LAWSON,   ATTORNEY  AT   LAW.  223 

oily  and  plausible,  and  had  money.  Roger  called 
him  into  his  office,  and  asked  him  about  the  land. 

"  Well,  Squire,"  said  Hillborn,  "  the  poor 
woman  thinks  she's  got  a  right.  Jim  did  live  on 
the  place,  but  I  let  him  live  thar  for  nothin',  for  I 
believe  in  bein'  good  to  pore  folks,  and  I  never 
charged  nothin' ;  but  I  have  a  deed  from  Billy 
Richardson  to  Dick  McNiel,  and  I  bought  it  from 
him,  and  the  deed's  done  recorded.  I'm  sorry 
for  her,  but  I  can't  help  her.  I'm  a  pore  man 
myself,  and  you  know  the  Scriptur'  says:  'He 
that  provideth  not  for  his  own  house  is  wus  than  a 
infidel.'  " 

There  seemed  but  little  hope  for  the  widow. 
The  deed  from  Richardson  seemed  all  right,  and 
Richardson  was  gone,  the  squire  who  witnessed  it 
was  gone,  and  the  other  witnesses  were  gone;  and 
yet  Roger  was  sure  she  spoke  truly.  He  must 
use  a  little  strategy. 

Dick  Moore,  who  was  tenant,  had  a  kind  heart, 
and  Bill  Hillborn  was  a  hard  landlord.  Dick  was 
sure  the  widow  had  a  just  claim,  and  so  he  agreed 
with  Roger  to  quietly  vacate  the  house  before  his 
time  was  out,  and  leave  the  widow  in  possession. 
Then  the  suit  of  ejectment  must  come  from  Hill- 
born. 

Hillborn  did  not  live  in  Habersham,  but  in  Cher- 


224  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

okee,  and  it  was  only  after  Moore  was  out  of  the 
way  and  the  widow  was  in  her  cabin  that  he 
found  out  the  true  stains.  He  was  in  a  towering 
rage.  He  came  to  the  cabin,  dismounting  at  the 
gate.  "  Hello!  "  he  said,  for  he  saw  a  large  cur 
dog  on  the  front  steps,  and  was  afraid  to  come  in. 
"  Who  lives  here?" 

"The  owners  of  this  place,  that's  who!  "  said 
a  determined  voice. 

"  I  am  the  owner  of  this  place." 

"No;   that  you  hain't!  " 

"  Well,  I  Vvfill  show  you  that  I  am  !  so  you'd  bet- 
ter leave  here." 

"  But  I  hain't  a  gwine  to  do  it!" 

"Well,  I'll  put  3^ou  out,"  and  he  started  as 
though  he  would  come  in. 

"  You  will?  Well,  I  reckon  you  won't!  "  and 
she  reached  over  the  door  and  brought  down  her 
husband's  single-barrel  shotgun.  "  This  gun's 
loaded  with  buckshot,  Bill  Hillborn,  and  if  ye 
step  in  that  gate  Fll  put  the  whole  load  in  ye. 
Say,  Tige,  watch  him!  " 

The  cur  bristled  and  showed  his  teeth. 

Muttering  "  I'll  take  the  law  on  3^e,"  the  dis- 
comfited land  stealer  went  his  way  to  Cleveland, 
to  see  a  lawyer  and  get  ready  for  the  suit  of 
ejectment, 


ROGER   LAWSON,   ATTORNEY   AT    LAW.  225 

Possession  was  nine-tenths  of  the  law,  but  not 
ten-tenths.  The  widow  was  not  hkely  to  be 
ejected  by  a  justice  of  the  peace,  but  when  the 
court  came  on,  if  Richardson  could  not  be  found, 
the  deed  might  stand. 

Roger's  old  friend,  Squire  Bass,  might  help 
him  to  find  Richardson.     He  mentioned  it  to  him. 

"Why  yes,  Roger;  I  know  jist  whar  he  is. 
He  sold  out  here,  and  went  over  to  Randolph 
County,  in  the  Alabam.  1  got  a  letter  from  him 
a  little  while  ago.     His  post  office  is  Wedowee." 

*'  Do  you  think  I  can  get  him  here  to  court?  " 

"Why,  yes.  When  he  writ  me  last  winter  he 
said  he  would  be  here  after  craps  w^as  laid  by,  if 
he  could  come;  and  I  expect  he'll  be  glad  to 
come." 

The  court  came  on.  There  was  but  little  busi- 
ness in  Cleveland,  and  the  judge  called  the  case 
of  "  Richard  Roe  for  Wm.  Hillborn  vs.  John 
Doe  and  Mary  Jenkins,  writ  of  ejectment."  Col. 
Billups  having  refused  to  take  the  case,  Billy  Mar- 
tin, a  young  lawyer,  was  employed  by  Hillborn. 
The  young  lawyer  said  the  case  was  a  plain  one. 
The  property  was  his  client's,  and  the  deed  pro- 
duced would  show  the  chain  of  deeds  to  Hillborn 
from  Richardson  and  McNiel.  The  poor  woman 
was  doubtless  demented.    The  terrible  war,  which 


226  THE    BOY   IN   GRAY. 

the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  knew  was  a  rich  man's 
war  and  a  poor  man's  fight,  had  unsettled  her 
mind.  He  would  make  no  speech,  but  just  intro- 
duce the  two  deeds  as  witnesses.  He  presented 
the  deeds,  i.  A  deed  from  Billy  Richardson  to 
Richard  McNiel.  2.  A  deed  from  McNiel  to 
Hillborn.  He  had  no  other  witness  to  present. 
"And  now,"  he  said,  "the  case  is  with  you,  my 
Brother  Lawson." 

"  Mr.  Sheriff,"  said  Lawson,  "  call  Billy  Pvich- 
ardson," 

"  Billy  Richardson!  Bill}^  Richardson!  Billy 
Richardson!    '  Come  into  court!" 

William  Hillborn  turned  pale,  and  paler  still 
when  in  walked  Billy  Richardson,  who  sold  him 
the  land. 

Roger,  after  he  had  sworn  the  witness,  asked 
him:    "  What  is  your  name?  " 

"  Billy  Richardson." 

"  Where  do  you  live?  " 

"In  Alabama." 

"  Did  you  ever  live  in  this  county?  " 
."I  did." 

"  Did  you  get  a  patent  to  lot  No.  205,  Fifth  Dis- 
trict of  Habersham?  " 

"I  did." 

"  Did  you  sell  that  land  to  Dick  McNiel?  " 


ROGER   LAWSON,    ATTORNEY  AT   LAW.  227 

"I  did  not." 

*'  Did  you  ever  sell  it?  " 

"I  did." 

"To  whom?" 
,     "  To  James  Jenkins." 

"  Did  you  sign  this  deed?  " 

"I  did  not." 

The  lawyer  for  Hillborn  got  up  and  said: 
"May  it  please  the  Court,  I  beg  to  withdraw 
from  this  case  at  this  juncture.  The  deed  upon 
which  I  based  my  plea  is  undoubtedly  a  forgery. 
Whether  with  cognizance  of  my  client  or  without 
it,  I  cannot  tell.  I  hope  your  Honor  will  order 
a  verdict  for  the  defendant." 

"The  court,"  said  the  judge,  "orders  a  ver- 
dict for  the  defendant,  with  all  costs  to  the 
plaintiff." 

The  grateful  woman  burst  into  tears  as  she 
turned  to  Roger.  "  God  bless  you.  Squire,"  she 
said;  "  if  the  pra'rs  of  a  widow  'oman  will  do  you 
any  good,  you  shall  have  'em,  but  that's  all  I've 
got  to  pay." 

Hillborn  came  to  Roger  as  soon  as  court  ad- 
journed. "Well,  Colonel,  I'll  take  my  affidavy 
I  paid  good  money  to  Dick  McNiel  for  that  land, 
and  I  was  a  gwine  to  let  the  widder  stay  thar.  I 
just  wanted  my  rights." 


228  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

"Well,  Squire,"  said  Roger,  "  you  will  save 
yourself  another  suit  and  some  trouble,  some  hard 
questions,  if  you  pay  this  widow  the  back  rent  for 
the  six  years  jou've  had  the  land,  for  I  will  prose- 
cute you  on  the  criminal  side  and  sue  you  on  the 
civil  side  of  the  court  if  you  do  not  settle  at  once." 

"Well,  Colonel,  that's  pretty  hard,  but  a  man 
must  put  up  with  a  heap  of  wrong  things  in  this 
wicked  world,  even  if  he  is  honest.  I  don't  know 
much,  and  Dick  McNiel  was  a  smart  lawyer,  and 
he  cheated  me;  but  I  am  willing  to  do  something 
for  the  widder.  I  never  got  nothin'  from  the  place 
scacely,  but  I'll  pay  her  $25  and  drop  it." 

"No,  Squire,  you  can't  get  off  that  easy.  If 
you  will  give  the  widow  a  good  horse  and  forty 
bushels  of  corn  which  Moore  owed  you  for  rent 
and  all  the  fodder  and  $25  in  money,  I'll  drop  the 
case;  but  if  you  don't,  I'll  have  you  arrested  to- 
night for  a  conspiracy  to  defraud,  and  have  the 
grand  jury  to  take  j^our  case  in  hand." 

"  Well,  Squire,  I  ain't  the  man  to  contend.  I'd 
ruther  folks  would  wrong  me  than  wrong  them,  so 
I'll  do  it." 

The  papers  were  fixed,  and  the  poor  widow  went 
to  her  home  with  a  happy  heart. 

Roger's  skill  in  managing  the  case  excited  much 
admiration,  and  his  noble  devotion  to  the  penniless 


ROGER   LAWSON,   ATTORNEY  AT   LAW.  229 

woman  placed  him  in  a  high  place  in  the  hearts  of 
the  people  of  both  counties;  but  there  were  no 
fees,  and  the  deposit  in  Savannah  was  about  gone. 
But  acts  Hke  this  of  Roger  are  not  apt  to  escape 
the  notice  of  a  good  Lord,  and  he  knows  how  to 
bring  us  out  of  the  most  trying  embarrassments. 
So  our  young  lawyer  found  it.  The  section  in 
which  he  had  his  home  bordered  on  the  gold  fields 
of  Upper  Georgia.  Indeed,  the  first  gold  ever  dis- 
covered in  Georgia  was  discovered  in  Habersham 
County  in  1829.  An  English  company  had  in- 
vested largetyin  the  mines,  and  it  was  now  having 
a  long  canal  dug  through  the  county.  There  was 
much  legal  work  to  be  done,  and  Mr.  Sterling, 
who  was  the  manager  of  the  company,  was  look- 
ing for  a  solicitor.  He  was  in  the  courthouse 
when  Roger  won  his  first  case.  He  was  so  pleased 
with  the  young  attorney  that  he  decided  to  try  and 
secure  him  for  a  solicitor  for  the  company,  and  to 
Roger's  astonishment  and  gratification  he  offered 
him  one  hundred  dollars  per  month  as  salary,  and 
paid  the  first  month  down  in  advance. 

With  a  heart  full  of  gratitude  to  God  the  young 
lawyer  returned  home  to  bear  the  good  tidings  to 
Helen  and  his  mother.  The  question  of  his  future 
v/as  now  pretty  well  settled.  He  won  his  way 
rapidly,  and  before  he  had  been  at  the  bar  twelve 


230  THE   BOY    IN   GRAY. 

months  he  had  won  an  independent  position  as  a 
lawyer.  He  was  enabled  now  to  provide  greater 
comforts  for  his  mother  and  sister  and  lay  the 
foundation  for  the  library  he  so  much  needed.  It 
was  well  for  him  that  he  had  a  preceptor  so  wise 
as  Col,  Billups,  and  that  he  followed  so  faithfully 
his  counsel.  He  had  not  completed  his  education 
even  so  far  as  the  schools  could  carry  him,  and 
his  reading  for  his  profession  had  been  largely  de- 
voted to  the  books  bearing  upon  the  practice;  but 
now  he  enlarged  his  area  of  study,  and  made  him- 
self acquainted  with  those  liberal  studies  which  lie 
at  the  foundation  of  all  true  culture.  He  little 
knew  how  soon  his  knowledge  of  the  history  of 
the  past  should  stand  him  in  good  place  in  an  im- 
portant position. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

A  DARK   CHAPTER   IN   AMERICAN   HISTORY. 

^jlf^O  write  the  stor}^  of  Roger  I  must  needs  say 
^  something  of  the  poHtical  condition  of  the 
country  just  after  the  war,  but  I  assure  my  read- 
ers that  if  I  could  justly  do  so  I  would  never  refer 
to  the  events  recorded  in  this  chapter.  The  courage 
with  which  the  North  fought  for  the  Union ;  the 
brave  effort  of  the  South  to  save  the  Constitution, 
as  she  read  it,  were  events  worthy  of  all  admira- 
tion, and  both  participants  could  be  commended; 
but  how  any  American  who  was  freeborn,  and  who 
held  to  the  traditions  of  the  past,  could  believe  that 
the  reconstruction  measures  adopted  after  the  war 
was  over  were  defensible,  save  as  measures  born 
of  times  when  men  were  in  no  condition  to  think 
coolly  or  act  justly,  I  cannot  see.  This  is  not  the 
place  to  tell  the  story  of  how  Gov.  Jenkins  was 
deposed,  and  how  Gov.  Johnson  was  placed  in  of- 
fice, and  of  how  Gen,  Ruger,  a  general  in  the 
army,  superseded  him ;  of  how  the  negroes  Vv^ere 
given  the  right  of  franchise,  and  a  convention  to 
reorganize  everything  was  called,  and  of  how  the 

(231) 


232  THE    BOY   IN    GRAY. 

old  and  wise  men  of  the  country  .were  shut  out  from 
places  in  that  convention.  The  civilization  of  our 
section  was  fearfully  menaced.  Men  a  thousand 
miles  av.'ay,  utterly  ignorant  of  the  ditFiculties  in  the 
way  and  ruled  by  bitter  partisanship,  were  forcing 
upon  their  countrymen  measures  which  threat- 
ened the  very  destruction  of  all  social  life. 

The  men  who  were  thus  experimenting  were 
sufficiently  honest,  and  as  far  as  they  knew  were 
acting  wisely,  but  the  certain  ruin  which  would 
have  resulted  if  their  measures  had  been  carried 
out  would  not  have  been  less  ruin  because  tTie 
parties  who  wrought  It  meant  no  ill. 

There  were  four  classes  of  white  people  who 
were  concerned  and  formed  parties.  There  was 
a  large  majority  of  the  people  who  held  on  to  most 
of  the  old  traditions.  They  were  willing  to  sur- 
render those,  and  those  only,  which  the  fortunes 
of  war  had  forced  them  to  give  up.  Two  things, 
slaveholding  and  the  right  to  nullify  and  secede, 
were  among  the  things  surrendered.  They  were 
willing  to  recognize  the  civil  right  of  the  negro  be- 
fore the  law  as  equal  to  their  own,  but  they  w^ere 
not  willing  to  show  him  any  special  favor  nor  in- 
vest him  with  political  power.  The  Southern  Re- 
publicans were  willing  to  go  farther  than  their 
conservative  fellow-citizens,  and  accept  as  wisest 


A  DARK   CHAPTER   IN   AMERICAN   HISTORY.     233 

what  the  moderate  Republicans  said  must  be 
done,  negro  suffrage  and  all,  and  to  give  what 
they  claimed.  Then  there  were  the  scalawags, 
renegade  Southerners,  who  were  willing  to  do  any- 
thing to  secure  place  and  money;  and  then  there 
were  the  carpetbaggers,  adventurous  Northerners, 
who  saw  an  opportunity  to  secure  positions  of  honor 
in  the  South  which  their  obscurity  forbade  their 
hoping  to  secure  in  the  land  from  which  they  came. 

It  was  evident  to  thoughtful  men  that  the  wisest 
and  truest  were  needed  as  they  were  never  need- 
ed before,  but  by  the  strange  infatuation  which 
marked  the  times  they  were  forbidden  to  take  part 
in  the  convention. 

To  the  promising  young  men  who  had  not  been 
excluded  the  country  turned  with  hope,  and  when 
the  election  came  Roger  Lawson  was  chosen  a 
delegate  from  his  county.  I  am  not  writing  his- 
tory, nor  even  giving  facts  which  can  be  estab- 
lished by  the  records,  so  the  readers, of  the  account 
of  the  Georgia  Convention  will  look  in  vain  for  the 
name  of  Roger  Lawson,  as  one  might  search  for 
that  of  Bois  Gilbert  among  the  ancient  Crusa- 
ders or  Rob  Roy  in  Scottish  annals.  Perhaps 
those  who  read  between  the  lines  may  meet  no 
difficulty  in  finding  the  place  our  young  soldier 
took  in  the  celebrated  convention. 


234  "^"^    ^°^'   -^^   GRAY. 

The  Georgia  Republicans  and  the  more  mod- 
erate carpetbaggers  joined  with  the  young  men 
to  prevent  the  absolute  ruin  of  the  State. 

Among  the  members  of  the  Convention  was  an- 
other Lawson,  Robert  Lawson,  from  Liberty.  He 
was  very  black,  but  no  member  of  the  convention 
was  in  more  perfect  form.  His  dress  was  faultless, 
his  manners  were  perfect,  for  no  man  understood 
the  usage  of  good  society  better  than  our  old  friend, 
Bob.  He  had  gone  with  the  Federals,  and  had 
been  employed  as  body  servant  by  one  of  the  gen- 
erals. He  went  with  his  new  master  to  Massachu- 
setts, and  was  there  treated  with  distinguished 
courtesy.  He  took  on  the  manners  of  the  people 
among  whom  he  was,  and  when  he  came  back  to 
Liberty  he  felt  that  he  was  ready  to  take  any  posi- 
tion of  dignity  and  trust.  He  joined  the  Loyal 
League,  he  was  selected  as  their  standard  bearer, 
and  he  was  elected  to  the  convention.  He  was  well 
dressed,  well  behaved,  and  silent,  and  so  made  a 
good  average  member.  He  generally  watched  the 
course  of  the  leading  Radicals,  and  took  that. 
When  Roger  met  him  the  former  master  was  as 
kind  as  he  used  to  be  when  Bob  waited  on  the 
table,  and  while  Bob  called  him  Colonel  instead  of 
Mass  Roger,  he  had  evidently  still  a  warm  place 
in  his  heart  for  his  former  owner.     They  were 


A   DARK   CHAPTER   IN  AMERICAN   HISTORY.    ,235 

equals  now  before  the  law,  and  in  many  places 
Robert  Lawson,  the  colored  gentleman  from  Lib- 
erty, was  in  higher  esteem  than  the  independent 
young  rebel  from  Habersham. 

The  times  were  perilous.  The  carpetbaggers 
were  shrewd,  ambitious,  and  unscrupulous;  the 
scalawags,  subservient  and  venial;  the  Georgia 
Republicans,  cautious;  and  the  young  Democrats, 
daring  and  defiant.  A  measure  came  before  the 
convention  that  was  very  menacing.  The  mak- 
ing of  the  provision  would  bring  about  very  seri- 
ous results.  The  carpetbaggers  were,  to  a  man, 
in  favor  of  it,  as  were  the  scalawags.  The  mod- 
erate Republicans  opposed  it,  and  so  did  the 
Democrats,  and  it  depended  upon  the  negro  vote 
'  how  it  would  go,  and  the  negro  contingent  was 
largely  led  by  the  "gentleman  from  Liberty,"  as 
the  President  of  the  Convention  called  him. 

Judge  Bone,  Republican,  one  of  the  leaders  of 
the  moderates,  came  to  Roger,  who  led  the 
young  Democrats:  "Lawson,  if  these  fellows 
have  their  way,  the  State  is  ruined;  and  they 
will  have  it,  unless  you  can  do  some  mighty  fine 
work  with  the  niggers.  Your  old  servant,  Bob,  is 
the  leader  among  them.  If  you  can  get  him  to  op- 
pose the  bill,  you  can  save  the  State.  It  is  worth 
trying.     I  have  done  my  best  with  him ;  but  Azariah 


236  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

Fuller,  from  Maine,  has  a  stronger  hold  on  him 
than  a  Southern  man.  If  you  can't  control  him, 
the  case  is  hopeless." 

As  Roger  passed  Bob  at  adjournment  he  said 
to  him:  "  Bob,  come  to  my  room  at  the  National 
to-night.     I  want  to  see  you." 

"  Tank  you,  Colonel.  I'll  present  myself  dar, 
sah,  on  de  proper  time." 

When  he  came  in  and  Roger  had  given  him  a 
chair  and  a  cigar,  he  said  to  him:  "  Well,  Bob, 
times  have  changed,  haven't  they?" 

"  Yes,  Mass  Colonel;   times  is  changed." 

"  But,  Bob,  you  are  a  Georgian?  " 

"Yes,  sah." 

"And  a  Liberty  County  man?  " 

"Yes,  sah." 

"  From  the  old  Medway  neighborhood?" 

"  Dat's  a  fac'." 

"  They  were  a  great  people?  " 

"  Dat  dey  was.  Mass  Colonel." 

"  Bob,  you've  got  their  reputation  in  your  keep- 
ing." 

"  Surely,  sah  " — 

"  Bob,  will  you  disgrace  them?" 

"No,  sah." 

"  Bob,  will  you  be  led  around  like  a  slave  by 
any  white  man?  " 

"  No,  sah.     I's  free.     I's  gwine  to  stay  free." 


A  DARK   CHAPTER   IN  AMERICAN   HISTORY.     237 

"  Now,  Bob,  will  3-011  let  Mr.  Azariah  Fuller 
lead  you  by  the  nose?  " 

"  No,  sah,  not  if  I  knows  myself." 

"Well,  Bob,  that's  what  he  thinks  he  will  do, 
and  that's  what  I  think  he  is  not  going  to  do. 
Now,  Bob,  when  that  vote  comes  to-morrow,  show 
yourself  a  Liberty  County  gentleman,  and  act  the 
man.  Just  get  up  and  say:  'Mr.  President,  I've 
nothing  against  my  old  owners,  sir,  and  I  want 
peace,  and  I  am  a  going  to  vote  against  that  bill.' 
Don't  say  anything  to  Fuller;  keep  quiet.  Bob, 
did  I  ever  go  back  on  you?  " 

"Never,  Mass  Roger,  nebber  no  time." 

"  Well,  you  can  count  on  me  now,  and  Fll  count 
on  you." 

The  people  held  their  breath  when  the  ayes  and 
nays  were  called  the  next  day,  and  when  the  name 
of  Mr.  Lawson,  of  Liberty,  was  called.  Bob  rose. 
He  was  dressed,  as  usual,  in  the  height  of  st^'le. 
He  had  the  air  of  a  statesman.  In  a  stentorian 
voice  he  said:  "  Mr.  Prisident,  sir,  I's  nuthin'  agin 
my  old  owners,  sah;  I's  not  a  gwine  to  'flict  'em, 
sir,  and,  sir,  I  votes  no." 

The  galleries  broke  out  in  a  cheer.  Mr.  Azariah 
Fuller  looked  chapf alien,  but  the  State  was  saved.* 

*  If  anybody  should  fail  to  find  this  incident  in  any  reputa- 
ble Georgia  history,  they  must  remember  that  history  doesn't 
tell  everything,  but  leaves  much  to  our  iinao-ination. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"GET'TIIEE   behind   me,    SATAN." 

fHE  convention  was  over,  and  the  race  for  a 
Governor  and  members  of  the  Legislature  was 
to  be  had.  The  leading  men  of  Habersham 
wanted  Roger  to  run  for  the  House  of  Represent- 
atives. He  was  not  unaspiring.  He  realized  that 
the  times  were  perilous  and  the  work  devolving  on 
the  Legislature  would  be  very  important,  and  after 
he  was  nominated  he  was  anxious  to  be  elected. 
His  election  to  the  convention  had  been  without 
opposition,  but  not  so  now.  He  had  not  reached 
his  position  of  popular  favor  without  exciting  feel- 
ings of  envy  on  the  part  of  the  less  successful. 

Young  McAtee  was  a  lawyer  of  a  few  more 
years  than  Roger.  He  had  read  Blackstone  and 
a  book  on  Evidence  and  Cobb's  Digest,  and  had 
been  admitted  to  the  bar.  He  had  read  little  since 
that.  He  knew  how  to  draw  a  deed,  make  a  will, 
or  sue  out  a  warrant.  He  was  ready  for  any- 
thing, however,  which  came  along,  and  before  the 
justice  of  the  peace  or  a  petit  jury  he  was  really  a 
power.     He  was,   in  truth,  smart,   unscrupulous, 

(2:^8) 


"GET   TIIEE   BEHIND   ME,    SATAN."  239 

and  airile.  He  asked  for  the  nomination  of  the 
Democrats  to  the  House,  but  did  not  receive  it, 
and  announced  himself  as  an  independent  candi- 
date. He  was  well  known,  largely  connected, 
and  was  hand  in  hand  with  the  moonshiners.  He 
threw  himself  into  the  campaign  with  all  ardor. 

Roger  was  not  disposed  to  neglect  opportunities 
to  make  himself  known  and  popular.  He  went  to 
the  school  exhibitions,  he  went  to  the  barbecues, 
he  made  speeches,  he  went  to  the  homes  of  the 
people ;  but  he  positively  refused  to  treat  or  allow 
any  others  to  do  so  for  him.  His  friends  became 
alarmed.  McAtee  was  treating  vigorously,  and 
was  making  headway. 

Squire  Roberts  was  one  of  Roger's  constituents, 
and  he  became  anxious.  "  See  here,  Lawson," 
he  said,  "  this  ain't  gwine  to  do.  Politics  in  this 
country  hain't  run  according  to  the  ten  command- 
ments. You've  got  to  lay  down  a  part  of  your 
religion  till  you  whip  this  fight." 

"  Well,  Squire,  I  can't  do  it.  If  the  good  peo- 
ple of  Habersham  County  want  me  to  represent 
them,  I'll  do  it;  but  I  am  not  going  to  get  my 
seat  by  a  perjur}-." 

"Well,  no.  But  you  stand  off,  and  we'll 
manage  for  you.  You  just  quit  that  Sunday 
school   business  till    after  the   election,   and   quit 


240  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

these  temperance  spcakin's,  and  your  friends 
will  fix  you." 

"  No,  Squire,  no." 

"  Well,  you're  the  queerest  politicianer  I  ever 
struck  up  with.  Why,  when  John  Thompson — 
and  he  was  a  locus  preacher — was  a  runnin'  for  tax 
collector,  he  jest  went  plumb  blind  and  deaf  till  the 
election  was  over." 

It  was  evident  Roger  was  going  to  be  beaten  if 
he  continued  his  course.  Col.  Billups  came  to 
him.  "  See  here,  Lawson,  you  must  be  elected. 
Too  much  depends  on  it  to  let  scruples  stand  in 
the  way.  I  know  you  are  right  in  principle,  but 
we  are  now  in  a  war,  and  all  is  fair  in  love  and 
war.  There  is  no  moral  wrong  in  simply  holding 
some  things  in  abeyance  and  allowing  some  things 
questionable  to  be  done  for  greater  good." 

"  But,  Colonel,  I  cannot.  I  owe  you  much,  but 
I  can't  do  this;  it  is  wrong," 

Roger  was  to  be  beaten,  so  everybody  said. 
The  election  came  on.  The  vote  at  Clarksville 
would  settle  it.  James  Bass  and  the  Squire  were 
at  work  at  their  precinct  and  would  take  care  of 
that.  A  crowd  of  Confederate  soldiers  were  on 
hand  in  town,  and  Andy  Rhodes,  who  had  come 
back  from  the  Nation,  was  there.  He  had  just 
come  in  the  week  before.     He  had  done  his  best 


"get   thee   behind   me,  SATAN."  24I 

for  Roger,  and  now  when  the  election  came  on 
Andy  was  at  work  for  his  friend.  The  tide  seemed 
against  Roger,  but  there  were  many  friends  who 
stood  by  him.  At  last  Dr.  Phillips  said:  "Andy, 
you  were  born  in  the  cove ;  you  know  the  boys 
there;  you  m.ust  make  a  speech." 

"  O  yes  !  O  yes  !  O  yes !  Andy  Rhodes  is  going 
to  make  a  speech." 

The    crowd    drew   near.      Andy  jumped    on  a 

goods  box.     "  Boys,"  he  said,  "you  know  Andy 

Rhodes  is  better  at  fightin'  than  speakin',  and  you 

know  he  hain't  the  best  man  in  the  world,  and  he 

is  a  leetle  too  fond  maybe  of  mountain  dew;   but 

you  know  Andy  never  goes   back   on   a  friend. 

Now  Roger  Lawson's  daddy  was  rich,  and  there 

weren't  nobody's   daddy  poorer  than   mine;   but 

Capt.  Lawson  use  to   speak  kind  to  me  when  I 

was  a  barfoot  boy,  and  when  my  daddy  died  he 

bought  the  coffin  for  m}^  old  mammy,  and  when 

he  went  to   the  war  I  went  with  him,  and  out  in 

camp  at  Cotton  Hill  I  tuck  the  mumps ;   and  then 

I  had  the  measles,  and  come  mighty  nigh  a  dyin' ; 

and  this  here  same  Roger  Lawson,  he  nussed  me 

like  a  bab}^.     I  was  with  him  when  he  was  shot 

the  fust  time,  and  I  tuck  him  offen  the  battlefield; 

and  I  seed  him  when   he  fell   at   Gett3^sburg.     I 

know  him,  and  so  do  you.     He's  the  ginuine  stuff. 
IG 


242  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

If  Bill  McAtee,  who  is  a  tryin'  to  beat  him,  ever 
smelt  gunpowder,  or  ever  helped  a  poor  man,  who 
ever  hearn  of  it?  When  the  Widder  Jenkins  was 
about  to  lose  her  land,  who  saved  it  for  her?  " 

"Why,  Capt.  Lawson  did,  bless  his  heart!" 
said  an  earnest  and  excited  voice,  "  and  I  wish  I 
had  a  hundred  votes.  He  should  have  every  one 
of  'em."  It  was  the  voice  of  the  widow.  She 
had  just  come  to  town. 

"  Boys,  will  you  go  back  on  a  one-armed  Con- 
fed,  say  will  you?  " 

"  No  !  no  !  hurrah  for  Lawson  !  " 

And  so  Roger  went  to  the  Legislature  by  a  hand- 
some majority. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


SOME    SURPRISES. 


"pT  is  not  my  purpose  to  tell  of  Roger's  life 
^  as  a  legislator,  nor  to  give  a.  history  of  that 
motley  body  known  as  the  Bullock  Legislature. 
The  time  has  not  come,  perhaps,  to  speak  of  these 
things  dispassionately,  and  we  are  not  yet,  it  may 
be,  able  to  do  justice  to  all  concerned;  and  then, 
besides,  I  am  not  writing  a  history  of  events,  but 
telling  a  stor}^  of  how  one  of  -my  young  country- 
men, by  energy  and  uprightness,  overcame  the  ob- 
stacles that  were  thrown  in  his  way  by  the  unpar- 
alleled changes  of  the  war.  Nor  need  I  try  to 
conceal  the  fact  that  the  aim  of  this  little  chronicle 
is  to  arouse  in  the  hearts  of  m}^  young  countrj^men 
aspirations  after  noble  things,  and  that  my  story 
has  a  moral.  It  has  been  too  generally  accepted 
as  a  truth  that  young  men  are  to  be  ruled  b}'  pas- 
sion and  appetite;  that  tenderness  to  mothers  and 
consideration  for  sisters  and,  above  all,  loyalty  to 
God  are  not  to  be  expected  in  the  average  young 
man  of  good  position.     In  these  days  when  young 

men  are  divided  into  two  classes — men  and  so- 

(243) 


244  TKE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

ciety  men — I  would  be  glad  for  my  young  readers 
to  see,  not  a  faultless  young  fellow,  but  one  who 
had  genuine  piety  and  a  high  sense  of  gentlemanly 
honor  and  spirit  of  honest  independence,  which  he 
cherished  as  his  next  best  possession,  and  who 
was  not  to  be  conquered  by  difficulties.  He  was 
soon  found  to  be  a  legislator  with  whom  it  was  use- 
less to  lobb}^,  and  men  who  had  schemes  passed 
by  the  young  member  from  Habersham  to  try  their 
arts  elsewhere.  The  temptations  which  surrounded 
the  young  member  of  the  Legislature  were  not  a 
few,  but  it  was  soon  seen  that  those  who  kept  the 
private  bottle  in  the  committee  room,  or  who  formed 
the  Poker  Club,  which  met  in  the  same  place,  or 
who  went  to  the  disreputable  exhibitions,  or  worse 
houses,  which  are  always  found  in  a  city  in  which 
legislative  sessions  are  held,  had  no  attractions  for 
him;  nor  did  the  sneers  at  the  Christian  states- 
man, or  the  Puritan  in  politics,  have  any  intiuence 
over  him.  But  if  I  keep  my  promise  not  to  write 
a  history  of  these,  the  darkest  days  Georgia  ever 
saw,  I  must  leave  my  young  legislator  in  the  Opera 
House  in  Atlanta,  which  had  just  been  secured 
for  the  use  of  the  government,  and  go  to  Haber- 
sham to  see  Helen  and  her  mother.  "  Ivy  Bush  " 
had  been  wonderfully  transformed  in  these  two 
years.     As  Roger's  means  increased  he  added  to 


SOME   SURPRISES.  245 

the  comforts  of  his  mother's  home.  And  old 
Jack,  long  his  mistress's  gardener,  too  eld  now 
to  do  much  more  than  work  around  the  house, 
was  constantly  improving  the  garden  and  grounds. 
Beautiful  woodbines  had  been  brought  by  him 
from  the  woods  and  planted  around  the  front 
piazza;  the  sweet  shrub  and  honeysuckle  had 
been  transplanted  from  the  woods  to  the  garden; 
a  number  of  roses,  white  and  red,  were  in  the 
yard;  and  the  old  time  flowers,  touch-me-nots  and 
jonquils  and  nasturtiums  and  Iwacinths  and  tulips 
and  verbenas  and  pinks  and  dahlias,  were  in  rich 
abundance.  The  neglected  orchard  had  been 
pruned,  and  new  trees  had  been  planted,  and  old 
Jack  had  made  the  kitchen  garden  contribute 
richly  to  the  comforts  of  the  table.  The  flocks  of 
geese  and  ducks  which  floated  so  gracefully  on 
the  waters  of  the  Sequee,  and  the  crowds  of  chick- 
ens, large  and  small,  and  of  turkeys,  dignified 
and  venerable,  told  of  Helen's  thrift  and  Mam- 
my's care.  The  triweekly  mail  brought  the  jVcvj 
York  Observer  of  old  times,  a  little  too  highly 
flavored  with  war  seasoning  3'et,  but  still  the  good 
old  Observer,  and  now  Roger's  Advocate  and  the 
weekly  secular  papers  came  regularly  to  break 
anything  like  seclusion  from  the  world.  "  Dear 
Aunt  Bass,"  as  Helen  called  her,  was  still  able  to 


246  THE    BOY  IN  GRAY. 

come  over  and  spend  the  da}',  and  the  wife  of 
James  came  with  her  and  brought  her  two  little 
girls,  who  thought  Aunt  Helen  was  their  kins- 
woman in  realit}'.  The  little  pony  carriage  fur- 
nished the  mother  and  daughter  a  conveyance  to 
Salem,  where  Helen  attended  the  Sunday  school,  , 
and  where  James  Bass,  in  Roger's  absence,  super- 
intended it.  She  was  still  a  Presbyterian.  A  Meth- 
odist Presbyterian,  she  pleasantly  called  herself; 
but  Mr,  Wood,  the  Methodist  preacher,  was  at 
"  Ivy  Bush  "  as  often  as  he  w^as  at  Squire  Bass's, 
and  as  much  at  home  there.  Was  there  ever,  will 
there  be  ever,  a  sweeter,  cleaner,  purer  society 
than  the  country  neighborhoods  of  Georgia  used 
to  present,  and  I  hope  present  us  still? 

Plelen  was  as  happy  as  a  bird.  The  sick  knew 
her,  the  poor  loved  her,  and  while  the  rustics  stood 
a  little  in  awe  of  one  who,  ladj'-born,  lad\'-bred,  and 
lady-clad,  could  not  but  show  what  she  was,  there 
was  not  one  of  the  plainest  girls  who  did  not  re- 
spect her,  nor  one  of  the  boys  who  would  not  have 
died  in  her  defense.  The  plain,  uneducated,  bad- 
ly dressed  girls  who  came  from  the  hills  around 
Salem  soon  learned  that  she  had  no  feeling  of  con- 
tempt for  them,  but  was  their  friend,  and  her  in- 
fluence told  in  all  the  section  about.  She  had  one 
of  the  outhouses  at   "Ivy  Bush"   fitted  up,  and 


SOME   SURPRISES.  247 

opened  a  school,  and  had  a  houseful  of  young 
pupils. 

While  she  was  so  faithfully  at  work  there  was 
quite  a  surprise  in  store  for  them  all.  Gen.  Law- 
son  had  one  hundred  shares  of  Rosevelt  Factory 
stock,  counted  as  worthless,  but  which  he  had  not 
disposed  of.  Judge  Hansford,  who  was  President 
of  the  company,  had  time  to  time  written  to  Roger 
that  he  was  rebuilding  and  refurnishing  the  mill, 
and  had  some  hope  that  after  all  there  would  be  a 
time,  not  far  in  the  future,  for  paying  dividends. 
One  day  in  Atlanta  he  met  Roger.  "  Well,  Cap- 
tain, I'm  glad  to  say  the  old  Rosevelt  is  on  her 
feet  again.  The  Directors  on  Saturday  declared  a 
semiannual  dividend  of  three  dollars  a  share,  and 
I  will  have  the  Treasurer  to  send  you  a  check  for 
it  to-morrow." 

Roger  had  long  wished  to  return  to  his  old 
friend,  Bingham,  the  amount  of  money  that  he 
had  loaned  him,  but  he  had  not  been  able  to  do  so. 
He  resolved  to  send  him  this  three  hundred  dollars. 
He  had  heard  no  word  from  him  for  three  years. 
Bingham  had  not  written  to  him,  very  naturally, 
for  he  did  not  know  where  he  was,  and  Roger  was 
not  willing  to  write  to  him  in  those  days  of  bitter 
agitation,  for  he  feared  lest  an}^  approach  on  his 
part  might  have  been  construed  improperly.      So 


248  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

he   had   kept  silence;    but  now  he    could ^  safely 
break  it,  and  he  wrote  to  his  old  friend : 

House  of  Representatives, 

Atlanta,  Ga.,  Nov.,  1868. 

il/j  Dear  Tank:  I  have  often  thought  of  jou,  and  how  grate- 
fully you  can  never  know,  since  we  parted  at  Fort  Delaware; 
but  you  know  how  a  gentleman  feels  and  how  impossible  it  has 
been  for  me,  during  the  last  three  years,  to  do  other  than  pre- 
serve the  silence  which  has  marked  my  course.  But  while  I 
have  said  nothing,  I  assure  you  that  you  have  had  as  warm  a  place 
in  my  heart  as  any  living  man.  But  I  am  not  going  to  afi^dct  you 
with  a  long  letter,  or  with  senliment.  You  were  kind  enough 
when  I  needed  it  to  give  me  a  help  which  I  valued  very  much 
then  and  have  been  grateful  for  ever  since.  I  should  have  made 
some  recognition  of  your  kindness  long  ago  if  I  could  have 
done  so,  but  nearly  all  we  had  was  swept  away,  and  I  was  not 
able  to  do  as  I  wished.  I  am  glad  to  say  I  can  now  repay  the 
loan  in  part,  and  I  inclose  you  $300,  New  York  exchange. 

We  are  li\ing  in  a  pleasant  little  home  in  the  mountains,  at 
"  Ivy  Bush,"  near  Clarksville,  in  Habersham  County.  There 
are  only  three  of  us:  mother,  Helen,  and  I.  Old  Jack  and 
Mammy  and  our  old  friend.  Young  Jack,  now  the  happy  father 
of  two  black  cherubs,  are  with  us. 

I  suppose,  of  course,  you  are  married;  and  if  you  can  come 
South,  I  wish  you  would  come  and  see  us  and  bring  your  wife. 
You  can  reach  us  easily  now  by  a  new  railroad,  the  Air  Line 
from  Atlanta  to  Charlotte. 

Truly  yours.  Roger  Lawson. 

In  a  week  Roger  received  the  following: 

Office  Binghamton  Mills, 
Binghamton,  Conn.,  December  7,  186S. 
M\>  Dear  yohnny :  I  cannot  tell  you  how  glad  I  Avas  to  hear 


SOME   SURPRISES.  249 

from  you.  I  have  been  hoping  to  get  a  word  from  you  for  all 
these  years.  I  am  almost  sorry  you  remembered  the  trifling 
kindness  I  showed  you  when  you  were  in  want  of  it.  I  am  glad 
you  are  where  I  knew  you  would  go  when  I  parted  from  you: 
at  the  front. 

I  am  here  in  the  cotton  mill.  ISIy  good  father  had  a  large 
interest  in  this  enterprise,  and  when  he  died,  which  he  did  two 
years  ago,  I  was  elected  President  of  the  company,  and  am  now 
quite  a  man  of  business. 

No,  I  am  not  married.  I  wonder  where  you  got  that  idea. 
I  hope  to  be  some  time,  when  I  can  find  the  right  kind  of  a  girl, 
but  I  have  not  found  her  yet.  My  dear  mother  and  sister  Clara 
are  with  me,  or  rather  I  am  with  them. 

I  thank  you  for  the  invitation  you  gave  me,  and  I  hope  next 
spring  to  avail  myself  of  it,  as  I  wish  to  come  South;  and  then, 
too,  I  would  like  so  much  to  see  your  mother  and  sister  again. 
So  I  think  I  will  take  Clara  and  run  down  South  in  May,  and 
stop  at  "  Ivy  Bush  "  to  see  you. 

Give  my  kindest  regards  to  your  mother  when  j-ou  write,  and 
Miss  Helen,  and  don't  forget  Jack.  Congratulate  him  for  me 
on  his  propitious  marriage. 

Truly  yours.  John  H.  Bingham. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

IVIAY  FLOWERS. 

Z'-pj^HEN  Col.  Bingham  went  home  after  receiv- 
^^-^'^  incj  the  letter  from  Roger  he  handed  it  to 
his  sister,  who  read  it  to  her  mother.  *'  Well,"  said 
his  sister,  "  are  you  going?" 

"Yes,  I  am  going,  and  I  want  you  to  go  with 
me." 

"  Me?     Why,  I  am  not  invited." 

"  No,  but  my  wife  is,  and  you  must  take  her 
place." 

"  Why,  my  son,"  said  the  mother,  "  you  are  not 
in  earnest,  are  you?  " 

"Yes,  mother;  I  want  Clara  to  see  the  South, 
and  I  have  some  business  with  a  firm  in  Atlanta, 
and  must  go  there,  and  then  I  want  to  see  the 
people  who  were  so  kind  to  me." 

"But  are  you  not  afraid  of  the  Kuklux?  the 
Tribune  says  that  a  Northern  man's  life  is  in  dan- 
ger in  Georgia  unless  he  is  a  Democrat." 

"  Yes,  so  it  does,  and  perhaps  it  thinks  so;  but 
I   know  that  it  is  not  true.     So  when  j'ou  go  in 

May  to  Sister  Mary's,  I  will  take  Clara  with  mc  to 

(250) 


MAY   FLOWERS.  25 1 

Georgia.  When  I  tell  you  that  Mrs.  Lawson  is  a 
Presbyterian,  and  reads  the  New  York  Observer, 
you  will  be  willing  to  trust  us  in  her  care,  I  am 
sure." 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  there  are  some  good  people 
down  in  the  unhappy  country;  and  I  know  that 
she  must  be  one  of  them.  I  can  never  forget  how 
kind  they  all  were  to  you,  and  I  think,  if  you  can, 
you  ought  to  go ;  but  I  am  afraid  that  it  is  a  little 
risky." 

The  spring  months  came  on,  and  the  proposed 
journey  was  made.  To  the  Connecticut  maiden 
the  journey  was  of  unceasing  interest.  She  had 
never  been  farther  south  than  New  York,  and  now 
Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  and  Washington  and 
Richmond  were  each  visited,  and  then  in  the  early 
part  of  May  the  cars  stopped  at  Mt.  Airy,  and  the 
handsome  young  Federal  colonel  and  his  gentle  sis- 
ter stepped  off.  Roger  was  there  to  meet  them, 
and  Helen  had  come  with  him.  She  took  the 
stranger  girl  by  the  hand,  and  kissed  her  as  tender- 
ly as  if  she  had  been  her  sister.  The  meeting  of 
Roger  and  Bingham  was  like  that  of  two  school- 
boys. 

The  letter  from  Clara  to  her  mother,  however, 
tells  the  story  better  than  I  can: 

"  Ivy  Bush,"  Habersham  Co.,  Ga. 

My  Dear  Aloiher :    Well,  here  I  am.     I  can  hardly  believe 


252  THE   BOY   IN  GRAY. 

that  I  am  awake,  everything  is  so  strange  and  new  to  me.  Our 
journey  was  an  ovation.  Tlie  hurried  letters  I  sent  you  can 
give  you  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  great  j-ileasure  with  which  a 
Connecticut  girl  visits  the  South  for  the  first  time.  In  Rich- 
mond I  was  delighted  beyond  measure.  I  went  to  the  capitol, 
went  into  the  old  library,  saw  the  pictures  of  the  old  gentlemen 
of  the  colony,  visited  Libby  Prison  and  Belle  Isle,  and  rode 
over  the  battlefields;  and  after  our  visit  there  was  over,  we  took 
the  railroad,  going  to  Danville,  and  thence  through  North  Car- 
olina and  the  foothills  of  the  mountains,  until  we  reached  Mt. 
Airy.  This  is  merely  a  station  on  the  railroad.  Clarksville  is 
six  miles  north  of  it,  and  "  Ivy  Bush,"  where  we  are  staying,  is 
on  the  Sequee,  three  miles  froin  Clarksville. 

Helen  and  her  brother  were  there  to  meet  us.  She  kissed 
me  like  she  had  known  me  always,  and  greeted  brother  like  an 
old  friend.  They  had  an  old  time  carriage,  and  an  old  colored 
man  (Uncle  Jack,  we  call  him)  to  drive  it.  Two  fat  mules  were 
hitched  to  it.  We  did  not  go  very  fast,  but  if  our  team  had  been 
a  fast  one,  the  roads  would  have  prevented  it,  for  they  are  too 
hilly  for  fast  travel. 

We  reached  "Ivy  Bush"  about  dark.  Mrs.  Lawson  was 
looking  for  us.  She  is  a  dear  old  lady,  w^ho  reminds  me  very 
much  of  you.  She  has  a  sweet,  sad  look  on  her  face,  and  is 
very  quiet.  Poor  woman!  she  has  had  a  world  of  trouble.  Her 
children  are  so  sweet  to  her!  Capt.  Lawson  is  so  thoughtful 
and  gentle,  and  Helen  takes  all  care  from  her.  Dear  old 
Mammy  always  calls  her  child  yet,  and  watches  over  her  like 
she  was  a  child  sure  enough. 

"  I\y  Bush "  is  the  sweetest,  sunniest  place  that  you  ever 
saw,  and  the  house  as  cozy  as  you  would  wish.  Helen  and  I 
have  the  same  room,  and  so  have  Capt.  Lawson  and  brother, 
for  the  house  is  not  a  large  one. 

They  have  three  servants.     Aunt  Judy,  the  cook,  has  been 


MAY   FLOWERS.  253 

with  them  always,  and  Mammy  used  to  nurse  Mrs.  Lawson. 
Chloe,  who  does  the  housework,  is  the  wife  of  Jack,  who  took 
care  of  brother  and  Capt.  Lawson  when  they  were  both  wounded. 
It  is  just  as  nice  here  as  it  can  be,  and  I  am  delighted.  I  will 
write  you  more  when  I  see  more.  I  just  send  you  this  now. 
Affectionately,  Clara. 

To  a  young  woman  from  a  New  England  village, 
the  change  to  the  mountains  of  Upper  Georgia 
was  a  striking  one,  and  Clara  was  thoroughly  de- 
lighted with  all  she  saw.  Indeed,  there  are  few 
sections  of  the  country  which  are  more  attractive, 
in  many  of  their  features,  than  the  mountain 
country  of  Upper  Georgia;  and  in  the  middle  of 
May,  when  the  honeysuckle  is  in  its  glory,  and 
robed  in  white  and  pink  and  crimson  and  orange, 
it  sheds  its  fragrance  to  the  breeze.  When  the 
dogwood  is  in  its  bridal  robe,  when  there  is  the 
yellow  jasmine  and  the  red  woodbine,  and  when 
the  calycanthus  with  its  exquisite  perfume,  and  the 
red  buds,  and  the  grandfather  graybeards,  and  the 
hawthorn,  with  the  beautiful  white  clusters,  and 
the  fragrant  crab  apples  are  everywhere,  and  when 
beneath  the  feet  are  the  violets  and  trilliums  and 
pink  roots  and  sweetbriers  and  ladies'  slippers 
and  the  trailing  arbutus,  when  the  mocking  bird 
sings,  and  the  redbird  flits  like  a  flash  of  fire,  and 
bluebirds  twitter,  and  the  humming  birds  dash 
from  flower  to  flower— when  all  this  was  around 


254  '^^^^   ^°"^'   ^^   GRAY. 

the   fair  girl,    no   wonder   she   was   carried  away 
with  delight. 

Roger  and  Bingham,  with  their  fishing  rods,  for 
the  season  of  shooting  was  over,  spent  their  days 
on  the  Sequee  fishing  for  the  black  bass  and  the 
salmon  trout  and  the  smaller  fish  which  are  found 
in  the  stream.  Bingham  could  only  spend  a  week 
or  two,  and  so  Roger  devoted  all  his  time  to  him. 
A  part  of  the  time  was  given  up  to  excursions. 
They  went  to  the  beautiful  Nacoochee  Valley  and 
to  Tallulah.     Clara  must  tell  in  her  letter  of  these 

journeys : 

"  Ivy  Bush,"  May,  1869. 

My  Darling  Mother:  I  have  just  returned  from  a  most  de- 
lightful excursion.  Capt.  Lawson  made  up  a  party  to  go  over 
to  Nacoochee  and  Mt.  Yonah.  There  were  six  of  us:  Capt. 
Lawson,  Mr.  Bass,  Brother,  and  Mrs.  Bass,  Helen,  and  I.  We 
had  fourteen  miles  to  ride,  so  we  began  our  journey  as  soon  as 
it  was  bright  enough  to  see  our  way.  Our  road  was  largely 
through  forests  until  we  reached  the  Nacoochee  Valley,  which 
is  about  two  miles  long.  The  Chattahoochee  winds  its  way  like 
a  silver  thread  through  the  middle  of  it.  Beautiful  forest-cov- 
ered mountains  are  on  every  side  of  it,  and  Mt.  Yonah,  the 
loftiest  of  them,  where  we  were  going,  borders  it.  We  drove 
up  the  mountain  until  we  could  no  longer  drive,  and  then 
climbed  on  foot  to  the  top.  The  view  from  this  point  was  in- 
describably grand  and  beautiful.  The  vale  of  Nacoochee,  with 
its  charming  little  farms,  nestled  like  a  garden  at  our  feet. 
The  beautiful  Chattahoochee  wound  its  way  southward. 
Looking  south,  as  far  as  the  eve  could  see  was  an  ocean  of 
green ;  for  from  the  height  on  which  -we  were  it  appeared  to  be 


MAY  FLOWERS.      •  255 

an  almost  unbroken  forest.  Looking  north  and  east  and  west, 
there  were  mountains,  mountains,  mountains.  The  indescrib- 
able purplish  tint  of  the  nearer  ranges  faded  away  into  the  del- 
icate blue  of  the  far-distant  peaks  which  tower  above  the  blue 
range  in  North  Carolina  and  Tennessee.  There  was  no  point 
to  which  the  eye  could  be  turned  where  there  was  not  gi-andeur 
and  beauty.  We  spent  the  morning  on  the  mountain,  and  in 
the  afternoon  Ave  came  back  to  "  Ivy  Bush  "  again.  Day  after 
to-morrow  we  are  to  go  to  Tallulah,  where  Capt.  Lawson  says 
I  will  see  the  most  picturesque  scene  this  side  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  I  am  wonderfully  well.  My  cheeks  are  tanned  a 
little  b}-  being  in  the  sun  so  much,  but  my  appetite  is  magnifi- 
cent, and  Aunt  Judy  tries  herself  cooking  for  me. 

Lovinglj',  Clara. 

While  Col.  Bingham  and  Roger  were  watching 
their  corks  as  they  were  fishing  for  sahnon  trout 
in  the  pool  below  the  fall  on  the  river,  they  talked 
freely,  as  they  had  often  done,  of  the  condition 
of  public  affairs.  Each  had  found  place  for  a 
change  of  view  on  many  subjects,  and  each  with 
sturdy  honesty  held  to  those  opinions  which  he 
thought  were  true.  That  day  the  question  of  the 
tariff  and  its  effects  was  being  discussed.  Roger 
was  for  free  trade;   Bingham,  for  the  tariff. 

"  Johnny,"  said  his  friend,  "  if  I  were  selfish,  I 
would  want  the  tariff  protection  removed;  and  if 
you  were  selfish,  you  would  certainly  wish  it  re- 
tained. Do  you  know4hat  this  part  of  Georgia  is 
destined  to  be  the  great  workshop  of  America? 


256  «THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

New  England  cannot  present  one-half  of  the  ad- 
vantages 3'ou  have  here  for  manufacturing,  and 
our  factories  are  already  established,  and  need  no 
help.  Not  so  here.  Take  the  spot  where  we  are 
sitting.  Here  is  water  power  sufficient  to  run  one 
hundred  thousand  spindles.  It  never  fails.  Here 
is  stone  enough  at  your  very  door  for  every  build- 
ing you  can  wish,  and  here  is  timber  in  the 
greatest  abundance.  Here  are  the  people  to  work 
the  mills  at  reasonable  wages,  and  here  is  the  cot- 
ton right  at  your  door  to  spin,  were  your  factories 
already  built  as  ours  are.  You  can  make  yarn 
and  muslin,  and  ship  it  to  Binghampton  and  sell  it 
for  twenty-five  per  cent,  profit,  and  then  undersell 
us  if  we  sold  at  cost." 

"Well,  all  that,  Yank,  may  be  true,  but  that 
does  not  make  protection  right.  But  I  argue  with 
you  as  to  its  benefit  to  us  if  we  could  take  advan- 
tage of  it.  But  w^e  have  no  capital;  and,  as  my 
old  friend,  Col.  Howard,  says:  'You  can't  get  a 
goose  to  w^ater  without  capital.'  " 

"  That  is  true,  also,  but  there  is  an  over  abund- 
ance of  capital  in  New  England.  It  is  timid,  but 
will  go  where  it  is  safe  and  where  it  promises  to 
give  a  good  return.  Now,  suppose  we  form  a 
company.  You  put  in  this  water  power  and  this 
quarry  and  fifty  acres  of  land  at  about  $10,000, 


MAY   FLOWERS.  257 

and  I  will  put  up  that  amount  in  mone}^,  and  I  am 
sure  I  can  stock  up  a  company  with  $100,000 
capital." 

"Agreed!  "  said  Roger. 

"Look  out!    there  goes  your  cork,"  and  the 
conversation  suddenly  came  to  a  halt,  as  the  Con- 
necticut colonel  drew  a  splendid  trout  to  the  shore. 
The  next  day  the  visitors  were  to  go  to  Tallu- 
lah.     It  was  too  much  of  a  journey  to  go  and  re- 
turn in  a  day,  so  the  tourists  went  the  afternoon 
before  and  spent  the  next  day  at  the  falls,  and  of 
what  they  saw  Clara  wrote   her  mother  in  an  en- 
thusiastic letter.     The  estimate  of  the  fair  maiden 
will  be  fully  indorsed  by  any  one  who  ever  looked 
upon  Tallulah,  which  is  one   of  the  most  unique 
and  magnificent  spectacles  presented  east  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.     The    Tallulah    River,  which 
rises  in  the  mountains  of  Rabun,  in  Upper  Geor- 
gia, is  a  stream  of  considerable  size  when,  spark- 
ling and  bright  and  free,  it  dashes  into  a  deep  ra- 
vine in  Habersham.     Through  this  narrow  ravine, 
between  mountains  of  sandstone  which  tower  hun- 
dreds of  feet  above  the  river  bed,  the  river  comes 
hurrying,  at  first  playfully,  then  earnestly,  then  an- 
grily.   It  meets  obstructions  in  the  precipices  which 
cross   its  channel,  then  it  sweeps  on  and,  foam- 
ing in  its  rage,  roaring  in  its  anger,  it  rushes  down- 
17 


258  THE   DOY   IN   GRAY. 

ward  until  it  loses  itself  in  the  grand  chasm.  No 
wonder  the  Indians  called  it  "The  Terrible." 
This  great  chasm  is  nearly  one  thousand  feet  deep, 
and  on  every  side  tower  the  walls  of  the  preci- 
pice, and  in  their  bosom  is  embraced  the  limpid 
stream,  which  is  now  calm  and  peaceful  after  its 
terrific  passion.  No  one  can  look  on  such  a  scene 
without  a  thrill  and  almost  an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

Clara  wrote  to  her  mother: 

"  Ivy  Bush,"  May. 

My  Darling  Mother :  I  did  not  know  there  was  in  the  world, 
much  less  in  Georgia,  wliich  I  have  always  looked  upon  as  a 
dreary  plain  of  ponds  and  pine  woods,  such  a  magnificent  scene 
as  that  which  we  looked  on  yesterday.  Capt.  Lawson  told  me 
Tallulah  had  no  equal  this  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
I  am  sure  he  is  right;  and  brother  says  that  if  he  had  choice  of 
spending  a  second  week  at  Niagara  or  at  Tallulah  he  would 
take  Tallulah  every  time. 

The  river  is  not  a  large  one.  It  is  as  clear  as  crystal  and  as 
blue  as  the  sky.  It  comes  sweeping  down  between  high  moun- 
tains, which  slope  gradually  down  about  a  hundred  feet  from 
the  river  bed,  and  then  become  bare  precipices.  Above  this 
they  are  covered  with  cedars  and  ivy.  There  are  rude  path- 
way's made  along  the  stream  on  one  of  its  banks,  and  from  the 
brink  of  the  precipice,  over  which  the  water  dashes,  you  can 
look  down  into  the  boiling  waves,  where  the  rainbow  contin- 
ually flashes  in  beauty. 

At  last  the  river  rushes  into  the  grand  chasm,  an  immense 
amphitheater  whose  walls  are  near  one  thousand  feet  high. 
Here  we  rested,  and  while  Helen  and  I  were  gathering  pebbles 
and   flowers  brother  and  Capt.  Lawson,  unpoetic  fellows,  were 


MAY  FLOWERS.  259 

tn'ing  to  catch  some  fish.  I  am  glad  to  say  they  did  not  suc- 
ceed. 

I  cannot  begin  to  describe  the  scenes  around  us  here.  They 
are  in  such  variety  and  there  is  such  a  mingling  of  beauty  and 
grandeur  that  when  I  begin  to  write  I  am  bewildered. 

We  spent  several  hours  in  the  grand  chasm,  and  had  our  lunch 
there,  and  then  we  began  the  task  of  climbing  out.  There  is 
only  one  way  of  egress,  where  the  rocks  are  not  bare  and  steep. 
It  requires  a  climb  of  nearly  a  mile  to  get  back  to  the  heights 
again.  We  were  thoroughly  done  up  when  we  reached  the  road. 
We  had  a  pleasant  ride  homeward,  and  reached  "Ivy  Bush" 
about  dark. 

I  can't  tell  j'ou  what  a  pleasant  time  I  have  had  with  these 
kind-hearted  Southerners.  Brother  and  Capt.  Lawson  sit  down 
and  talk  about  the  war  and  shooting  at  each  other,  just  as  if  it 
was  nothing;  and  when  Col.  Billups  came  out  to  spend  an  even- 
ing he  was  just  as  kind  to  brother  as  if  they  had  been  in  the 
same  army. 

Let  me  tell  you  of  something  which  touched  me  very  much. 
The  other  day  Helen  had  gone  to  see  a  sick  neighbor,  and 
brother  and  Capt.  Lawson  had  gone  to  the  village  to  fix  up 
some  papers,  and  I  was  sitting  under  the  oak  tree  in  an  easy- 
chair  reading,  when  the  gate  opened  and  I  saw  a  regular  Geor- 
gia "  cracker."  She  was  dressed  in  a  dress  of  yellow  homespun 
made  in  the  style  of  a  hundred  years  ago.  She  had  on  a  sun- 
bonnet  of  cheap  calico;  her  shoes  were  brogans.  She  had  a 
hard  face,  but  a  kindly  one,  and  had  a  very  bright  eye.  She 
evidently  took  me  for  Helen.  She  came  up  to  rhe  and  said  in 
a  very  curious  tone:  "  Is  you  Capt.  Lawson's  sister.''  " 

"  No,  ma'am ;  I'm  a  stranger." 

"You  is.-*     Whar  is  you  from.''  " 

"  Frorh  Connecticut." 

"Connecticut.'  whar  is  that.'" 


26o  THE    COY   IN    GRAY. 

"  Why  away  up  North."   - 

"  What?  is  you  a  yankee?  " 

"  Well,  that's  what  they  call  us." 

"  Well,  the  yankees  killed  my  husband,  and  he  never  done 
'em  no  harm.     Is  you  Capt.  Lawson's  folks?" 

"  No,  only  his  friend." 

"  Well,  ef  you  is  his  friend,  I  is  your  friend." 

"You  like  him,  then?" 

"Like  him!  I  love  the  very  ground  he  walks  on,  and  you 
would  not  wonder  as  I  do  ef  you  knowed  what  he's  dun  for 
me." 

"What  did  he  do?"  I  said. 

"  Well,  when  I  was  a  pore  widder  with  four  little  childern 
and  my  daddy  was  dead  and  old  Bill  Hillborn  stole  my  land, 
Capt.  Lawson  got  it  back  for  me,  and  I  never  paid  him  a  cent, 
and  old  Bill  Hillborn  could  have  almost  made  him  rich.  I 
hain't  been  able  to  do  nothin'  for  him  yit,  but  I  knit  these  socks 
this  winter  and  I've  brung  'em  to  him.  As  his  sister  hain't  here, 
I  wish  you  would  give  'em  to  him." 

She  handed  me  a  half-dozen  pairs  of  plain,  country-knit 
socks  as  her  present.  It  was  a  rather  awkward  thing  for  a 
young  lady  to  give  such  a  present  to  a  gentleman,  and  when 
Helen  came  I  handed  the  qv;aint  gift  to  her  with  the  message  of 
love  the  woman  had  left  for  him. 

You  need  not  smile.  I  certainly  am  not  in  love  with  the 
unreconstructed  young  rebel ;  but  it  is  not  often  you  see  one 
more  worthy  of  a  woman's  love.  Helen  is  a  jewel,  but  how  they 
could  be  other  than  what  they  are  with  such  a  mother  I  could 
hardly  see. 

Our  visit  is  nearly  at  an  end.  To-morrow  we  are  going  to 
Atlanta,  and  thence  to  Savannah  and  by  steamer  to  New  York. 
Brother  sends  love. 

Affectionately,  Clara. 


MAY  FLOWERS.  26l 

The  last  night  of  the  stay  of  the  visitors  had 
come.  They  were  on  the  porch  of  the  cottage  sit- 
ting under  the  woodbines.  The  honeysuckle  vine 
breathed  its  fragrance  on  the  air,  and  the  gentle 
breeze  from  the  hills  brought  the  sweet  odor  of  the 
wild  grape  on  its  bosom.  The  moon  was  full,  and 
the  moonbeams  came  softly  through  the  vines.  The 
young  people  had  just  come  from  the  sitting  room, 
where  Roger  had  held  the  evening  family  worship, 
and  now  they  sat  there  on  the  vine-covered  porch. 
There  were  the  rustic  seats  in  the  front  }■  ard  under 
two  large  oaks,  and  they  went  out  into  the  yard 
and  occupied  them.  What  they  said  to  each  other 
as  they  sat  there  in  the  moonlight  I  never  knew. 
Indeed,  I  think  that  eavesdropping  is  not  the  proper 
thing  to  do.  I  simply  know  that  they  talked  long 
and  softly.  The  weird  notes  of  the  whip-poor-will 
came  from  the  grove,  and  the  low  murmur  of  the 
waterfall  fell  on  the  ear.  The  sky  was  bright,  the 
air  Vv^as  balmy,  the  young  people  were  susceptible, 
and  if  anything  had  happened  it  would  not  have 
been  a  strange  event. 

Col.  Bingham  looked  somewhat  thoughtful  that 
night,  and  said  little.  And  the  next  day  when 
they  parted  at  Mt.  Airy  there  v/as  a  strange  reserve 
in  Helen's  manner  toward  him,  while  her  warm  em- 
brace told  Clara  of  her  sadness  at  her  o'oinoc. 


262  THE  BOY  IN    GRAY. 

"Johnny,  old  fellow,"  Bingham  said,  "you  do 
not  know  how  much  I  have  enjoyed  this  reunion. 
May  the  union  of  our  hearts  be  typical  of  the  un- 
ion of  this  sadly  divided  country !  Come  to  Con- 
necticut, and  let  me  show  you  that  a  cold-blooded 
yankee  has  a  warm  place  in  his  heart  for  even  an 
unmitigated  rebel  such  as  you  are." 

The  cars  moved  off,  and  there  was  a  real  feel- 
ing of  loss  at  "  Ivy  Bush  "  when  the  visitors  were 
gone. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


ORANGE  FLOWERS. 


^jfcf^HE  mail  to  Clarksville  came  now  every  day, 
^  and  almost  every  other  day  Miss  Helen  Law- 
son  received  a  letter  from  somebody,  I  don't  know 
who.  I  never  read  these  letters,  nor  did  I  read 
those  written  in  a  lady's  hand  which  went  to  Col. 
J.  H.  Bingham,  at  Binghamton,  Conn. 

I  heard  some  very  ill-natured  things  said  about 
the  way  Col.  Bingham  had  been  treated  at  "  Ivy 
Bush,"  but  they  were  said  by  Bill  McAtee.  He 
said  that  "  any  man  who  would  treat  the  enem}-  of 
his  country  as  Roger  Lawson  had  treated  Col. 
Bingham,  instead  of  being  in  the  Legislature  ought 
to  be  in  the  penitentiary." 

Andy  Rhodes  heard  him  say  it,  and  in  his  quaint 
way  he  said,  with  some  expressions  I  omit:  "Bill 
McAtee,  you've  never  got  over  Roger  Lawson's  a 
beatin'  you  for  the  Legislature.  Now,  you'd  better 
dry  up  !  Everybody  knows  that  you  hid  out  o'  the 
war,  and  got  among  Joe  Brown's  pets,  and  never 
done  nothin'  but  grumble;  and  I  jist  tell  you  that 

Roger  Lawson  is  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  no- 
es o 

tice  you  ;  but  Andy  Rhodes  hain't,  and  if  5^ou  want 

C2G3) 


264  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

to  keep  his  hands  off  en  you,  you  jest  keep  your 
tongue  offen  Roger  Lawson  !  " 

Roger  had  gone  on  steadily  in  his  work.  Col. 
Billups  took  him  into  partnership,  and  the  firm  of 
Billups  &  Lawson  was  the  leading  firm  of  lawyers 
in  the  upcountry. 

I  was  on  my  circuit  when  I  received  this  letter 
from  Roger.     It  was  written  in  October,  1869: 

My  Dear  Parson :  Mj  Sister  Helen  expects  to  be  married  to 
Col.  J.  H.  Bingham,  of  Connecticut,  on  the  30th  inst.  She  de- 
sires, as  we  all  do,  that  jou  should  perform  the  ceremony. 
Come  over  to  "  Ivy  Bush,"  and  go  with  us  to  the  church  at  Sa- 
lem, where  she  is  to  be  married. 

Affectionately  yoiir  old  friend,  Roger  Lawson. 

I  reached  Mt.  Airy,  where  I  was  to  meet  Roger, 
and  found  Col.  Bingham  and  his  sister.  They 
were  going  to  Clarksville,  and  expected  to  come  out 
the  next  day  to  "  Ivy  Bush."  The  express  agent 
called  to  Roger,  and  said:  "  I  have  some  packages 
for  you."  And  there  were  a  number  evidently  con- 
taining wedding  presents.  Several  small  packages 
were  marked  "valuable,"  and  were  directed  to 
Miss  Helen  Lawson.  One  of  them  came  from 
Binghamton,  Conn. 

When  they  reached  home  Roger  handed  his 
sister  the  package  from  Connecticut,  and  when  she 
opened  it  there  were  "Cr^^  jewels  that  her  father  had 
given  her.  In  addition  to  them, there  was  a  beau- 
tiful watch.     This  was  a  present  from  the  groom. 


ORANGE    FLOWERS.  265 

The  secret  was  now  out.  The  yankee  officer 
who  was  in  Savannah  was  Col.  Bingham,  and  the 
jewels  had  been  bought  for  the  bride  when  the 
time  should  come  that  she  should  be  his. 

There  was  a  box  for  Mrs.  Lawson.  One  may- 
know  at  once  what  it  had  in  it.  The  Lawson  sil- 
ver was  at  home  again.  It  had  on  it  a  simple  card: 
"  With  the  grateful  love  of  John  H.  Bingham." 

The  next  day  a  little  congregation  met  at  Salem, 
the  country  church.  The  wife  of  James  Bass  and 
the  school  children  had  decorated  the  little  church 
with  evergreens,  and  a  congregation  of  loving 
neighbors  had  come  to  the  wedding.  Roger  and 
Clara  stood  beside  the  sister,  and  Aunt  Bass  and 
Uncle  Bass  sat  each  near  the  loving  mother,  and 
I,  the  old  chaplain  of  Col.  Lawson's  regiment, 
read  the  beautiful  service  of  our  Church  and  mar- 
ried the  young  folks,  and  never  did  I  do  that  with 
a  firmer  assurance  than  that  this  "  holy  estate  had 
been  entered  into  reverently,  discreetly,  and  in  the 
fear  of  God." 

Aunt  Judy  was  at  home  fixing  up  for  the  wed- 
ding dinner,  but  Mammy  and  Uncle  Jack  were 
here  at  the  church,  and  among  those  who  gave 
their  hands  in  congratulation  there  were  none  more 
heart}'  than  dear  old  Mammy  and  dear  Uncle 
Jack. 


266  THE   BOY   IN   GRAY. 

A  small  party — Squire  Bass  and  his  wife,  and 
James  Bass  and  his  wife,  and  Col.  Billups  and  his 
family — gathered  around  the  table  at  "  Ivy  Bush  " 
to  a  sumptuous  dinner  which  Aunt  Jud}^  and  Chloe 
had  prepared,  and  Jack  in  all  his  glory  was  pres- 
ent to  welcome  the  guests  and  wait  on  the  table. 

Among  the  many  gifts  was  a  gorgeous  brooch 
from  "  Hon.  Robert  Lawson,  Esq.,  of  Liberty 
County,  to  Miss  Helen  Lawson,  with  his  compli- 
ments." Bob's  taste  was  not  the  best,  but  his 
motives  were  the  kindest. 

The  bride  and  groom  and  Clara  went  on  a  long 
bridal  tour  to  Florida,  Mobile,  and  New  Orleans; 
and  then  to  Connecticut,  vv'here  the  good  old  mother 
and  sister  of  Col.  Bingham  welcomed  the  Southern 
bride  with  genuine  tenderness. 

The  factory  company  was  formed  and  the  "  Ivy 
Bush  Factory"  was  established,  and  after  a  few 
years  Col.  Bingham  left  Connecticut  and  came  to 
Georgia  and  manages  the  mill. 

Roger  did  not  marry  Clara  as  you  expected  (she 
married  the  Congregational  minister  in  Bingham- 
ton),  but  Miss  Mary  Billups.  He  was  long  ago 
elected  the  judge  of  his  circuit,  and  is  trusted  and 
loved  and  honored  by  all  his  people.  He  is  to-day 
a  Confederate  veteran,  but  while  on  the  best  terms 
with  those  who  wore  the  blue,  is  never  ashamed  to 


ORANGE    FLOWERS.  267 

tell  of  the  deeds  of  the  ' '  boy  in  gray ;  ' '  and  nothing 
delights  Helen's  two  "  yankee  boys,"  as  she  calls 
them,  more  than  to  hear  Uncle  Roger  tell  of  his 
adventures,  unless  it  is  for  the  two  rebel  sons  of 
Roger  to  hear  their  Uncle  John  tell  of  the  deeds 
of  the  "  boy  in  blue." 

And  now,  under  the  somewhat  flimsy  covering 
of  a  fiction,  I  have  tried  to  tell  the  boys  and  girls 
not  exactly  what  I  saw  and  felt,  but  what  did  oc- 
cur durinfj  the  war  and  after  it.  If  one  should 
ask  who  is  the  real  hero  of  this  story,  I  perhaps 
could  not  tell  him.  The  fathers  of  my  readers 
can  possibly  call  up  the  memory  of  more  than  one 
who  bore  at  least  some  part  such  as  Roger  bore, 
and  possibly  their  mothers  knew  of  more  than  one 
Helen  who  bravely  bore  her  part  as  well. 

I  trust  our  children  will  all  remember  that  at 
fearful  cost  we  their  fathers  settled  som.e  ques- 
tions that  they  must  never  allow  to  be  opened,  and 
the  one  settled  forever  is  the  fearful  danger  of 
sectionalism.  The  strife  which  began  in  1832  in 
a  bitter  war  of  words  between  the  South  and  the 
North  reached  its  natural  end  in  the  clashing  of 
swords  thirty  years  after  that.  This  is  our  coun- 
try— North,  South,  East,  West — all  ours,  and  the 
blood  and  treasure  it  has  cost  has  been  poorly 
spent  if  our  children  do  not  see  it  so. 


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